SERMONS 


HUGH-T-KERR 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2019  with  funding  from 
Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


https://archive.org/details/childrensnaturesOOkerr 


CHILDREN’S  NATURE  STORY- 

SERMONS 


WORKS  BY 

HUGH  T.  KERR,  D.D. 

4  Volumes,  Each  $1.25 

Children's  Gospel  Story-Sermons. 

“  These  are  Story-Sermons.  They  are  not 
stories  and  must  not  be  so  judged.  Some¬ 
times  they  ‘  tag  a  moral  to  a  tale.’  They  are 
not  sermons  and  must  not  be  tested  by  the 
one,  two,  three,  method  of  the  classroom  or 
the  pulpit.  Simplicity  has  been  aimed  at  but 
the  great  central  doctrines  of  the  Christian 
faith  have  not  been  neglected. 

C  hildren’s  Mis  si  o  nary-S  tory-S  erm  o  ns. 

Told  in  simple,  yet  engrossing  fashion, 
the  story  of  missionary  heroism  becomes  in 
Dr.  Kerr’s  capable  hands  a  realm  of  veritable 
romance  in  which  deeds  of  knightly  valor 
are  done  in  the  name  of  the  great  king. 

Children's  Story-Sermons. 

“  The  story  sermons  are  so  attractive,  so 
simple,  so  full  of  action,  and  interest  and 
incident,  that  they  are  not  only  good  to 
read  aloud,  but  the  child  will  be  glad  to 
read  them  again  and  again  by  himself.” — 
Sunday  School  Times. 

The  Highway  of  Life  and  Other 
Sermons. 

“There  is  a  popular  impression  that  the 
minister  who  knows  how  to  tell  stories  to 
children  is  not  the  man  who  knows  how  to 
preach  to  grown-ups.  This  volume  will  con¬ 
tradict  that  impression.  They  are  clear  in 
outline,  forceful  in  thought,  and  wholesome 
in  tone.” — Record  Christian  Work. 


Children’s  Nature 
Story-Sermons 


By 

HUGH  T.  KERR,  D.D., 

Pastor ,  Shadyside  Presbyterian  Church ,  Pittsburgh ,  Pa. 
Author  oj  “  Children' s  Missionary-Story  Sermons 
1  ‘  Children 's  Story-Sermons ,  ”  “  Children 's 
Gospel-Story  Sermons ,  ” 


New  York  Chicago 

Fleming  H.  Revell  Company 

London  and  Edinburgh 


Copyright,  1923,  by 

FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago  :  17  North  Wabash  Ave. 
London  :  21  Paternoster  Square 

Edinburgh :  75  Princes  Street 


Mr.  and  Mrs.  Finley  H.  Lloyd 

WITH  PLEASANT  MEMORIES  OF 

“elfin  camp” 


FOREWORD. 


PASSING  north  through  the  Canadian  vaca¬ 
tion  country,  one  comes  to  a  sort  of  height 
of  land  where  the  waters  that  flow  east  into 
the  St.  Lawrence  and  Lake  Ontario  cease  to  flow, 
and  one  sees  the  western  current  begin  and  later 
enjoys  those  fine  rivers  that  empty  into  the  Geor¬ 
gian  Bay.  For  a  while  the  traveller  pauses  to 
think  of  the  strangeness  of  the  situation,  but  as 
he  travels  on  he  remembers  that  the  waters  of 
the  Bay,  the  River,  and  the  Lake  very  soon  min¬ 
gle  and  become  one  in  their  outward  and  onward 
flow  to  the  great  sea. 

And  so  all  truth  finds  its  way  out  into  life  and 
not  the  least  of  the  pleasures  of  the  ministry  is 
to  discover  that  truth  embodied  in  a  tale  to  please 
the  children  overflows  to  the  refreshment  and  en¬ 
richment  of  the  children’s  friends.  The  imagina¬ 
tion  is  the  highest  faculty  we  have  and  in  that 
magic  world  heaven  comes  down  our  souls  to 
meet. 

Jesus  never  failed  to  appeal  to  the  imagination, 
and  the  best  of  all  nature  story-sermons  are  the 
story-sermons  of  the  Gospels.  He  understood 
children  and  He  knew  nature  like  a  book.  The 
wild-flowers  and  the  birds,  the  sunrise  and  the 
sunset,  the  winds  and  the  waves,  the  green  grass, 

7 


8 


FOREWORD 


and  the  golden  grain  were  all  His  familiar  friends, 
and  nearly  all  His  parables  are  nature  story-ser¬ 
mons. 

If  there  is  any  virtue  and  if  there  is  any  praise 
in  this  attempt  at  nature  story-sermon  telling,  the 
credit  must  be  given  to  the  children  themselves, 
and  their  generous  appreciation.  I  must  also,  in 
all  honesty  say  that  I  owe  much  to  Sir  J.  Arthur 
Thomson’s  “The  Outline  of  Science,”  and  any 
reader  of  those  suggestive  volumes  will  easily 
detect  the  indebtedness. 

H.  T.  K. 

“Elfin  Camp” 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

i.  The  Lord  God  is  a  Sun 

PAGE 

13 

2. 

Counting  the  Stars 

l6 

3* 

Dust . 

20 

4- 

A  Christmas  Story-Sermon 

23 

5- 

A  Dead  World  . 

27 

6. 

The  Greatest  Cradle  in  the 

World 

31 

7- 

What  the  Bells  Say 

34 

8. 

The  Unseen  Comrade 

37 

9- 

The  Test  .... 

40 

IO. 

Camouflage 

43 

ii. 

Living  Grain 

46 

12. 

The  Home  of  the  Wheat 

49 

13- 

Shooting  Stars 

5i 

14- 

Flowers  and  Prayers 

54 

15- 

The  Greatest  Mill  in  the 

World  . 

57 

16. 

Habits . 

61 

1 7- 

Try — Keep  Trying  . 

64 

18. 

The  Worst  Parasite 

67 

19. 

Be  Somebody 

70 

20. 

The  Lace  and  the  Shoe 

74 

21. 

Making  Black  White  . 

78 

22. 

A  Friendly  World  . 

9 

81 

JO 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTEB 

PACE 

23- 

For  Sale 

• 

• 

• 

.  84 

24. 

The  Worst  Thing  in 

THE 

World 

87 

25. 

The  Easiest  Thing  in  the 

World 

90 

26. 

Dead  Spots  . 

• 

93 

27- 

Cats  and  Clover 

• 

98 

28. 

The  Tide 

• 

IOI 

29. 

The  Water  Wheel  . 

• 

104 

30. 

Finding  the  Way 

• 

107 

31* 

Afraid  of  the  Zeal 

• 

no 

32. 

The  Hidden  Spring 

• 

114 

33- 

An  Easter  Story-Sermon 

II 7 

34. 

The  Ravens 

• 

120 

35- 

Old  Folks  and  Trees 

• 

123 

36. 

A  Child  Goes  to  Church 

127 

37. 

Pharaoh’s  Perfume 

• 

130 

38. 

The  Bramble  King  . 

• 

133 

39- 

A  Book  in  a  Tree  . 

• 

137 

40. 

The  Song  the  Sea  Sings 

140 

4i. 

A  Tree  that  Told  a 

Lie 

143 

42. 

A  White  Stone 

• 

147 

43- 

The  Most  Beautiful 

Thing 

IN  THE 

World 

• 

151 

44. 

Lost  ! 

155 

45- 

Say  It  with  Flowers 

• 

158 

46. 

The  Shandaken  Tunnel 

161 

47- 

Sowing  and  Reaping 

• 

16s 

48. 

Little  Brothers  and 

Sisters 

• 

168 

CONTENTS 


ii 


CHAPTER 

49.  Work  !  . 

PACE 

172 

So. 

Safety  First!  . 

•  •  •  • 

175 

Si- 

The  Wasps’  Nest 

•  •  •  • 

179 

52. 

The  Sweetest  Thing  in 

the  World  . 

184 

I 

THE  LORD  GOD  IS  A  SUN 

“The  Lord  God  is  a  sun.’ — Ps.  84: 11 

THE  Bible  tells  us  that  God  is  like  the  sun. 

“The  Lord  God  is  a  sun.”  If  you  take 
the  Hymnal,  and  look  among  the  hymns 
you  love  you  will  find  the  thought  repeated,  again 
and  again,  “Sun  of  my  soul,  thou  Saviour  dear,” 
“As  the  sun  doth  daily  rise,”  “Sun  of  our  life, 
thy  quickening  ray,”  “Great  sun  of  righteousness, 
arise.”  The  sun  is  so  full  of  light,  so  bright,  so 
warm,  so  beautiful,  it  is  little  wonder  the  sun  re¬ 
minds  us  of  God. 

How  far  away  the  sun  is !  Once  I  saw  an  au¬ 
tomobile  travel  100  miles  an  hour.  It  was  out  at 
Indianapolis  on  the  great  speedway.  No!  I  was 
not  at  the  races.  I  was  at  the  General  Assembly. 
Now,  if  you  can  imagine  that  automobile,  not  go¬ 
ing  around  in  a  circle  but  travelling  straight  on 
and  on,  going  day  and  night,  every  day,  Satur¬ 
day  afternoons  and  Sundays,  going  on  and  on,  100 
miles  an  hour  for  more  than  100  years,  it  would 
arrive  at  last  at  the  sun. 

How  great  is  the  sun !  It  would  take  more  than 
a  hundred  worlds  as*  big  as  ours  to  make  one  sun. 
And  how  great  is  God.  He  made  the  sun  and  all 
the  stars.  There  is  nothing  in  the  world  so  great 

13 


14 


THE  LORD  GOD  IS  A  SUN 


as  God.  “To  whom  then  will  ye  liken  me,  that 
I  should  be  equal  to  him?  saith  the  Holy  One. 
Lift  up  your  eyes  on  high,  and  see  who  hath  cre¬ 
ated  these,  that  bringeth  out  their  host  by  num¬ 
ber  ;  he  calleth  them  all  by  name ;  by  the  greatness 
of  his  might,  and  for  that  he  is  strong  in  power, 
not  one  is  lacking.” 

How  bright  the  sun  is!  It  scatters  the  night 
and  chases  away  the  darkness.  How  bright  and 
beautiful  God  is !  In  him  is  light.  The  sun  sends 
out  great  flames  of  light  reaching  500,000  miles 
high,  and  the  light  of  the  sun  warms  this  cold 
world  of  ours.  They  tell  us  there  are  “spots”  in 
the  sun,  great  dark  spots,  thousands  of  miles 
across,  but  there  is  no  shadow  of  darkness  about 
God. 

“Our  midnight  is  Thy  smile  withdrawn; 

Our  noontide  is  Thy  gracious  dawn; 

Our  rainbow  arch,  Thy  mercy’s  sign ; 

All,  save  the  clouds  of  sin,  are  Thine.” 

How  near  the  sun  is!  We  think  it  is  far 
away,  millions  of  miles  away,  and  yet  the  sun 
is  here,  at  our  side,  shining,  among  the  flowers, 
in  our  homes,  in  the  faces  of  little  children,  in 
the  eyes  of  those  we  love.  The  sun  is  so  near 
you  can  almost  hold  it  in  your  hand  and  look 
at  it.  We  know  the  sun.  We  know  what  it 
is.  We  know  what  is  in  it.  We  know  there  is 
iron  and  copper  and  zinc  and  soda  and  magnesia 
in  the  sun.  How  do  we  know  that  ?  Because  the 
sun  comes  right  down  and  kisses  the  flowers  and 
the  faces  of  little  children,  and  wise  men  take  a 


THE  LORD  GOD  IS  A  SUN 


15 


sunbeam  and  make  it  tell  them  its  wonderful  se¬ 
crets.  How  near  God  is  and  how  good  He  is.  He 
comes  to  us  in  Jesus,  the  light  of  the  world,  and 
Jesus  tells  us  all  we  know  about  God. 

There  is  an  old,  old  story  in  an  old,  old  book 
called  the  Koran,  that  tells  how  away  back  in  the 
beginning  of  history  Abraham  found  the  true 
God.  And  this  is  the  story.  One  night  in  his 
far  away  heathen  home  Abraham  was  sitting 
watching  the  darkness  drift  down  from  the  hills. 
As  he  watched  he  saw  a  star  away  behind  the  hills. 
He  said,  “This  is  my  Lord.  He  is  so  bright,  so 
beautiful.”  Then  he  watched  and  waited,  and 
the  moon  came  up,  and  he  said,  “This  is  my  Lord.” 
Through  the  long,  dark  night  he  watched  and  as 
the  moon  grew  brighter  and  brighter  he  said, 
“Verily,  I  will  follow  my  Lord  in  the  right  way.” 
But  as  he  watched  the  East  was  filled  with  glory 
and  the  great  sun  came  up,  and  he  said,  “This  is 
my  Lord.  How  great  and  wonderful  he  is !  The 
sun  is  greater  than  earth,  or  star,  or  moon. 
Through  the  long  day  he  watched  and  in  the  eve¬ 
ning  the  great  sun  went  down  behind  a  dark  cloud, 
and  he  said,  “Oh,  my  soul,  I  am  done  with  these 
things.  I  turn  my  face  from  star  and  moon  and 
sun  to  Him  who  hath  made  them  all,  to  God  who 
made  heaven  and  earth.”  Let  us,  too,  turn  our 
faces  towards  God  and  say : 

“Great  Sun  of  Righteousness,  arise; 

Bless  the  dark  world  with  heavenly  light: 

Thy  gospel  makes  the  simple  wise, 

Thy  laws  are  pure,  Thy  judgments  right.” 


II 

COUNTING  THE  STARS 


“He  telleth  the  number  of  the  stars  — Ps.  147:4 


DO  you  think  you  could  do  that ?  Did  you 
ever  try  to  count  the  stars  ?  I  have.  When 
I  was  a  boy  in  Canada,  where  the  stars 
twinkle  and  shine  so  clearly,  we  used  to  watch  for 
the  first  star,  and  the  first  one  who  saw  it  would 
say : 

“Star  light,  star  bright, 

First  star  I’ve  seen  to-night.” 


Then  we  would  see  who  could  count  the  stars 
as  they  appeared.  One,  two,  four,  five,  seven, 
eight,  ten,  twenty,  fifty,  eighty,  and  in  a  little 
while  we  all  would  be  lost,  both  in  arithmetic  and 
in  wonder. 

They  call  a  man  who  watches  and  studies  the 
stars  an  astronomer,  and  the  astronomers  have 
tried  to  count  the  stars,  and  partly  by  counting, 
and  partly  by  guessing  they  tell  us  there  must  be 
between  2,000  and  3,000  millions  of  stars  and 
each  one  is  different,  for  “one  star  differeth  from 
another  star  in  glory.” 

We  cannot  count  the  stars,  but  God  can.  He 
counts  them  all  and  names  them,  for  He  made 

them  and  the  stars  are  not  little  tiny  sparks  of 

16 


COUNTING  THE  STARS 


17 


fire,  but  great  wonderful  worlds.  The  great  sun 
that  lights  and  warms  our  world  is  just  a  star,  and 
a  little  star.  Every  star  we  see  in  the  sky  is  a 
sun,  hundreds  of  times  bigger  than  our  sun.  It  is 
because  they  are  so  far  away  that  they  look  so 
tiny  and  so  small.  Some  of  the  stars  in  the  Milky 
Way  are  a  hundred  thousand  trillion  miles  away. 
Think  of  a  hundred  thousand  trillion  miles.  Try 
and  write  out  a  hundred  thousand  trillion.  You 
put  down  the  figure  1,  then  you  write  100,  then 
100,000,  then  100,000,000,  then  you  write  100,- 
000,000,000,  then  you  write  a  hundred  thou¬ 
sand  trillion  like  this,  100,000,000,000,000,000; 
and  that  is  the  distance  some  of  the  stars  in  the 
Milky  Way  are  from  our  sun. 

The  light  that  travels  from  some  of  these  far¬ 
away  stars  takes  millions  of  years  to  travel  to  our 
earth,  and  light  travels  fast,  186,000  miles  a  sec¬ 
ond.  No  wonder  we  like  to  look  up  into  the 
sky  on  a  clear  cool  night  and  say : 


“Twinkle,  twinkle,  little  star, 
How  I  wonder  what  you  are, 

Up  above  the  world  so  high, 
Like  a  diamond  in  the  sky. 

“When  the  blazing  sun  is  set, 
And  the  grass  with  dew  is  wet, 
Then  you  show  your  little  light, 
Twinkle,  twinkle,  all  the  night.” 


Stars,  just  like  boys  and  girls,  are  different. 
Each  has  its  own  way,  and  its  own  light.  There 
are  white  stars,  and  yellow  stars,  and  red  stars. 
You  have  seen  a  white  hot  iron,  and  you  know 


COUNTING  THE  STARS 


IS 

that  when  it  begins  to  cool  it  gets  yellow  and  then 
it  gets  red,  and  then  it  gets  black.  That  is  the 
way  with  stars,  and  perhaps  the  hottest  stars  are 
white.  I  do  not  know,  but  I  like  to  think  that 
just  as  God  counts  the  stars  and  names  them  so 
he  calls  every  boy  and  girl  by  name  and  cares 
for  each  one.  We  live  in  a  big  world  but  God  is 
greater  than  sun  and  moon  and  stars. 

The  Bible  calls  Jesus  a  star.  It  gives  Him  a 
star’s  name.  It  calls  him  “the  bright  and  morn¬ 
ing  star.”  The  morning  star  leads  the  world  into 
the  light  of  the  new  day  and  so  Jesus  leads  us. 
The  sailor  is  guided  over  the  trackless  sea  by 
the  stars.  The  traveller  over  the  desert  picks 
his  path  by  the  help  of  some  star,  so  we  too  find 
our  way  to  God  by  keeping  our  eyes  on  Jesus. 

There  is  a  story  of  a  young  girl  who  had  lost 
her  way.  She  was  lost  not  in  the  forest,  or  on 
the  sea,  but  right  in  her  own  home.  She  had 
lost  the  way  to  peace,  to  happiness,  and  to  a  quiet 
heart.  One  night  she  had  a  dream.  She  was  in 
a  deep,  deep  pit,  and  there  were  no  steps,  no  rope, 
nor  ladder.  She  gave  herself  up  for  lost  and  then 
falling  on  her  knees  and  looking  up  she  saw  a 
piece  of  blue  sky  and  one  star.  When  she  saw 
the  star  she  began  to  rise.  It  seemed  so  strange 
that  she  said,  “Who  is  lifting  me?”  and  looking 
down  she  found  herself  at  the  bottom.  Again 
she  saw  the  star  and  began  to  rise,  but  looked 
again  to  see  who  was  lifting  her  and  found  her¬ 
self  at  the  bottom.  A  third  time  she  fixed  her 
eyes  on  the  shining  star,  and  kept  looking  until 


COUNTING  THE  STARS 


19 


she  found  herself  lifted  out  of  the  deep  pit,  and 
she  was  safe.  Then  she  awoke  and  said,  “I  see 
it  all  now7.  I  am  not  to  look  at  myself,  but  at 
Jesus,  ‘the  bright  and  morning  star.’  ” 

When  Sir  Harr}7  Lauder  was  in  America  he 
wTas  walking  with  a  father  and  a  little  boy  down 
one  of  the  streets  of  New  York.  It  w7as  in  the 
days  of  the  great  w7ar,  wdien  service  flags  with  a 
star  were  hung  in  the  windows.  The  little  lad 
loved  to  point  them  out.  “Look,  father,”  he 
would  say,  “there’s  a  home  that  has  given  a  son 
to  the  war.”  “Look,  father,  there’s  another  star.” 
“Look,  father,  there  are  tw7o  stars.”  Then  the 
lad,  looking  up  at  the  Evening  Star  that  had  ap¬ 
peared  in  the  sky,  said,  “And  look,  father,  God  too 
must  have  given  a  son,  for  there  is  a  star  in  His 
window.”  Yes,  God  so  loved  the  world  that  He 
gave — Jesus. 


Ill 


DUST 

“Dust  thou  art” — Gen.  3  : 19 

THE  Bible  tells  us  very  plainly  that  our 
bodies  are  made  of  dust.  God  made  man 
of  the  dust  of  the  earth  and  breathed  into 
him  the  breath  of  life.  We  do  not  like  to  think 
we  are  made  out  of  dust.  We  like  to  think  we 
are  made  out  of  sunshine  and  rainbows,  and  if 
there  is  any  dust  about  us,  it  must  be  golden  star 
dust. 

I  heard  once  of  a  dear  old  Scotchwoman  who 
had  always  refused  to  have  her  picture  taken. 
Many  old  ladies,  you  know,  are  queer,  especially 
Scotch  old  ladies.  Her  family,  however,  urged 
her  to  have  her  photograph  taken  so  they  could 
send  it  to  one  of  her  sons  who  lived  in  America, 
and  she  consented.  When  the  first  proof  was 
received  she  looked  at  it  long  and  silently  and 
then  without  a  word  set  out  for  the  studio.  “Is 
that  me?”  she  said  to  the  photographer.  “Yes, 
madam,”  he  said.  “And  is  it  like  me?”  she  added. 
“Yes,  madam,  it  is  a  speaking  likeness.”  Then 
said  the  old  Scotch  woman,  “Well,  if  that’s  so,  it’s 
a  humbling  sight.” 

We  laugh  at  the  dear  old  lady,  for  we  know 
she  was  wrong,  for  there  is  nothing  lovelier  in 

20 


DUST 


2 1 


the  world  than  just  a  fine,  sweet,  thought-ennobled 
face  of  a  mother  or  a  grandmother. 

And  what  a  wonderful  thing  dust  is!  It  is 
alive  with  mystery  before  which  wise  men  dream 
and  wonder.  To  a  wise  man  who  knows,  “the 
very  dust  is  dear.”  It  is  a  living  thing,  and  out 
of  it  the  world  has  been  made,  and  scientists  tell 
us  that  we  owe  our  beautiful  sunsets  and  our  re¬ 
freshing  rain  to  the  dust  that  floats  in  the  upper 
air. 

We  are  apt  to  think  the  only  value  dust  has 
is  to  make  work,  but  it  is  not  so.  Dust  is  useful. 
A  great  scientist  once  wrote  a  book  which  he 
called  “The  Wonderful  Century.”  The  Wonder¬ 
ful  Century  was  of  course  the  nineteenth  century 
which  includes  all  the  years  between  1800  and 
1900.  In  this  book  he  wrote  about  some  of  the 
marvellous  things  discovered  during  those  years 
and  one  of  the  chapters  is  about  Dust,  and  among 
other  things  he  said,  “It  is  doubtful  whether  we 
could  even  live  without  dust.  To  the  presence 
of  dust  we  owe  the  clouds,  the  mists,  the  rains.” 
If  it  were  not  for  the  dust  instead  of  soft  showers 
and  refreshing  rains  we  would  have  water  spouts 
and  terrible  torrents.  It  all  seems  strange,  but 
true  things  are  often  strange,  and  sometimes  little 
things  are  really  big  things. 

A  great  man  by  the  name  of  John  Ruskin  once 
took  a  handful  of  mud  from  the  road  of  a  great 
city.  It  was  just  a  handful  of  dirty  dust  mois¬ 
tened  with  water.  This  wise  man  then  divided 
the  mud  into  four  parts,  clay,  soot,  sand,  and 


22 


DUST 


water.  Then  he  told  the  people  who  were  listen¬ 
ing  to  him  that  if  the  clay  were  left  alone  for 
thousands  or  millions  of  years  it  would,  under 
certain  conditions,  become  a  beautiful  sapphire. 
The  sand,  he  said,  in  the  same  strange  way  would 
be  changed  into  a  precious  opal.  The  soot,  the 
blackest  of  things,  would  in  time  become  a  brilliant 
diamond  and  the  water  could  easily  be  changed 
into  a  pearly  dewdrop  or  a  snow  crystal. 

God  can  change  the  meanest  thing  into  a  price¬ 
less  gem,  and  He  can  so  transform  us  that  we 
can  become  like  Him.  We  are  made  of  the  dust 
of  the  field  but  we  are  also  made  in  the  image  of 
God. 

“Life  is  real;  life  is  earnest! 

And  the  grave  is  not  its  goal ! 

‘Dust  thou  art,  to  dust  returnest’ 

Was  not  spoken  of  the  soul.” 

The  Apostle  John  said:  “Beloved,  now  are  we 
children  of  God,  and  it  is  not  yet  manifest  what  we 
shall  be.  We  know  that,  if  he  shall  be  manifested, 
we  shall  be  like  him;  for  we  shall  see  him  even 
as  he  is.” 


IV 

A  CHRISTMAS  STORY-SERMON 

'7  am  the  light  of  the  world.”— John  8:  12 

JESUS  is  the  Light  of  the  World.  There  is 
nothing  better  than  light.  Think  for  a  min¬ 
ute  about  the  things  that  are  connected  with 
light.  Light  and  heat  go  together.  The  great 
sun  that  lights  the  world  and  turns  darkness  into 
day  also  warms  the  earth  and  makes  it  bring  forth 
its  harvests  of  golden  grain  and  precious  fruit. 

Light  and  power  go  together.  Did  you  know 
that  Niagara  Falls  is  one  of  the  greatest  power 
plants  in  the  world?  Well,  if  you  go  there  to  see 
that  great  wonder  of  nature  you  must  see  also  the 
wonderful  power  houses  along  the  shore  where 
the  water  turns  the  wheels  and  the  power  gen¬ 
erated  by  the  wheels  goes  to  light  the  cities  of 
Niagara  Falls  and  Buffalo  and  Toronto  and 
drives  the  trolley  lines  in  a  hundred  cities  and 
towns.  Yes,  power  and  light  go  together. 

Light  and  health  go  together.  The  sun  is  a 
great  physician.  It  heals.  It  drives  away  disease. 
It  purifies  air  and  water.  Dr.  S.  Hall  Young,  the 
veteran  missionary  to  Alaska,  told  me  once  that 
for  twenty  years  in  Alaska  he  had  never  had  the 
funeral  of  a  little  child.  The  clear  air,  the  pure 

light,  kept  disease  away.  Men  who  study  such 

23 


24  A  CHRISTMAS  STORY-SERMON 


things  tell  ns  there  is  not  a  single  disease  germ, 
not  one  microbe,  on  the  top  of  Mount  Blanc  in 
Switzerland. 

When  Jesus  came  into  the  world  He  came  to 
be  the  Light  of  the  World.  The  Wise  Men  were 
guided  to  Him  by  the  light  of  the  star.  He  is  the 
living  Light  that  heals  and  saves. 

It  was  away  back  in  1353,  six  hundred  years 
ago,  and  a  terrible  plague  known  as  the  Black 
Death  had  carried  off  men,  women,  and  children 
by  the  thousands.  People  fled  in  terror  from 
towns  and  cities  and  lived  alone  in  strange  places. 
Friends  separated  from  each  other  and  families 
shut  themselves  in  their  own  homes  and  refused 
entrance  to  all  who  came.  Fear  made  people  more 
like  animals  of  the  night  than  like  the  children 
of  the  day.  They  called  the  disease  the  Black 
Death  and  it  certainly  drove  all  the  light  out  of 
the  land. 

The  Black  Death  had  driven  all  light  and  life 
from  the  streets  of  the  little  village  of  Goldberg 
in  Germany.  The  town  looked  as  if  it  had  been 
struck  with  death.  Christmas  Eve  came,  and  the 
city  was  silent  as  the  grave.  A  man  who  had 
been  in  hiding,  believing  that  he  alone  was  left 
alive,  unbarred  his  door  as  Christmas  Eve  sped 
on  to  Christmas  morning,  and  came  out  into  the 
silent  street.  The  stars  were  shining  bright  as 
if  all  were  well,  and  knowing  it  was  Christmas 
morn,  and  forgetting  the  dread  months  that  had 
passed  away,  he  began  to  sing  the  old  familiar 
Christmas  song: 


A  CHRISTMAS  STORY-SERMON  25 

“To  us  this  day  is  born  a  child. 

God  with  us ; 

His  mother  is  a  Virgin  mild; 

God  with  us ; 

God  with  us;  against  us  who  dare  be?” 

He  sang  the  first  verse  and  then  a  door  was 
opened,  and  a  man  joined  him,  and  together  they 
sang  the  second  verse.  Together  they  walked 
through  the  silent  street  and  were  joined  by  oth¬ 
ers  who  came  out  of  their  hiding  places,  until 
there  were  twenty-five — some  of  them  women  and 
children — and  they  sang  the  Christmas  song  until 
they  had  new  hope  and  courage  and  the  Christmas 
light  came  into  the  sky.  That  was  the  end  of 
the  Black  Death.  Either  it  had  spent  itself,  or 
God’s  goodness  had  brought  forth  new  courage 
in  the  hearts  of  those  twenty  five,  for  not  one  of 
them  died  of  the  Plague  and  for  hundreds  of 
years  after,  the  people  of  the  village  always  met 
together  on  Christmas  Eve  at  midnight  and  at 
two  o’clock  Christmas  morning  marched  through 
the  streets  singing  the  same  old  Christmas  hymn : 

“To  us  this  day  is  born  a  child 
God  with  us ; 

His  mother  is  a  Virgin  mild; 

God  with  us; 

God  with  us;  against  us  who  dare  be?” 

Yes,  light  and  health  belong  together.  When  the 
Christmas  child  was  born  they  called  His  name 
Jesus,  which  means  Saviour.  He  is  the  light 
that  saves.  He  is  the  light  that  drives  away  dark¬ 
ness  and  doubt  and  death.  When  Christmas  came 


26  A  CHRISTMAS  STORY-SERMON 


the  world  began  to  sing  and  it  has  been  singing 
ever  since : 

‘‘Joy  to  the  world;  the  Lord  is  come.” 

Jesus  said,  “I  am  the  light  of  the  world.”  He 
also  said,  “Ye  are  the  light  of  the  world.”  The 
Christmas  light  shines  because  of  Jesus,  but  it 
shines  also  because  of  those  who  walk  in  the 
Gospel  light.  At  Port  Maitland  a  great  pier  runs 
out  into  Lake  Erie  and  on  this  pier  at  night  there 
burn  two  lights,  one  near  the  end  and  one  near 
the  shore.  The  one  at  the  end  is  called  the  Light¬ 
house  light  and  the  one  near  the  shore  is  called 
the  Range  light,  for  by  means  of  it  the  ships 
know  not  only  where  the  harbor  is  but  the  way 
into  the  harbor.  Before  the  Range  light  was 
placed  on  the  pier  a  great  ship  missed  the  harbor 
and  ran  upon  the  reef.  Jesus  is  the  Great  light, 
but  we  too  are  the  range  lights  giving  direction 
to  those  who  wish  to  find  the  heavenly  harbor 
and  the  Christmas  spirit  with  its  joy  and  good 
cheer;  its  glad  gifts  and  helpful  sendee  is  the 
way  in  which  we  obey  the  Master’s  command, 
“Let  your  light  so  shine.” 


V 

A  DEAD  WORLD 


“Fair  as  the  moon  ” — Song  of  Songs  6 :  io 

THE  other  day  I  was  visiting  a  little  friend 
who  had  been  ill  for  fourteen  long 
months,  through  two  winters  and  one 
summer.  He  had  gone  to  bed  near  Christmas  and 
had  been  a  little  invalid  all  that  year,  and  through 
the  next  Christmas.  His  name  is  Frederick.  He 
has  a  sister  just  his  own  age  to  the  very  day,  and 
her  name  is  Florence.  Florence  went  to  school 
and  learned  to  write  and  add  and  subtract  and 
do  other  queer  things.  Frederick  stayed  in  bed, 
kept  very  quiet  and  read.  He  was  only  seven, 
but  he  read  all  sorts  of  books,  and  when  he  could 
not  read  others  read  to  him,  his  nurse,  his  father, 
or  his  mother,  or  Billy  or  Betty,  and  he  came  to 
know  a  lot  of  history  and  science  and  fairy  tales. 

One  day  when  I  was  telling  him  about  the  big 
world  outside,  and  the  coming  of  spring  with  its 
buds  and  leaves  and  flowers  he  chuckled  and  said, 
“Some  day  this  world  will  be  just  like  the  moon.” 
What  do  you  think  of  that?  What  did  he  mean? 
I  thought  perhaps  he  had  been  reading  Robert 
Louis  Stevenson  who  said  that 

“The  moon  has  a  face  like  the  clock  in  the  hall 
It  shines  on  thieves  on  the  garden  wall.” 

27 


28  A  DEAD  WORLD 

Then  I  thought  perhaps  it  was  Mother  Goose  he 
was  thinking  of : 

“The  man  in  the  moon 
Came  tumbling  down 
And  asked  the  way  to  Norwich. 

He  went  by  the  south 
And  burnt  his  mouth 
With  supping  cold  pease-porridge.” 

I  soon  knew,  however,  that  he  was  not  thinking 
about  fancies  and  fairies,  but  about  facts,  and  I 
said,  ‘‘Why  do  you  think  so?”  “Well,”  said  he  in 
a  wise  sort  of  way,  “don’t  you  know  the  moon  is 
dead  and  some  day  this  world  will  be  dead  just  like 
the  moon.”  Of  course  I  knew  that.  Everybody 
knows  that.  The  moon  is  dead.  Nothing  lives 
in  the  moon.  Nothing  ever  happens  there.  No 
storms,  no  lightning,  no  noise,  no  dust,  no  twi¬ 
light,  no  blue  sky,  no  twinkling  stars,  nothing  hap¬ 
pens  in  the  moon.  There  is  no  life,  no  air  there, 
and  the  sky  is  as  black  as  ink.  It  has  no  weather. 
It  is  a  dead  world. 

No  wonder  “the  man  in  the  moon  has  a  crick 
in  his  back.  Wheel  Whim!  Ain’t  you  sorry 
for  him?”  Perhaps  this  is  why  people  have  al¬ 
ways  thought  the  moon  harmed  people  and  made 
them  go  out  of  their  heads,  as  we  say.  Do  you 
remember  the  Psalm  that  says,  “The  sun  shall 
not  smite  thee  by  day  nor  the  moon  by  night?” 
You  can  have  a  moonstroke,  as  well  as  a  sun¬ 
stroke.  All  dead  things  are  bad,  and  a  dead  world 
like  the  moon  may  have  a  bad  influence  on  people, 
especially  on  young  people  who  stay  out  late  at 
night. 


A  DEAD  WORLD 


29 


I  said,  “Yes,  the  moon  is  dead,  a  dead,  dead 
world,  but  how  beautiful  it  is  and  how  wonder¬ 
ful  it  is  at  night.  How  is  that?  If  it  is  dead  how 
is  it  so  full  of  light?”  And  I  repeated  the  verse: 

‘‘Moon,  so  round  and  yellow, 

Looking  from  on  high, 

How  I  love  to  see  you 
Shining  in  the  sky. 

Oft  and  oft  I  wonder. 

When  I  see  you  there, 

How  they  get  to  light  you, 

Hanging  in  the  air.” 


Then  Frederick  turned  over  and  said  with  a  laugh, 
“Don’t  you  know?  Why,  it’s  the  sun  that  makes 
the  moon  beautiful.  The  moon  is  dead,  but  the 
sun  shines  on  it,  and  makes  it  shine.”  And  then 
I  thought  that  we,  too,  are  something  like  the 
moon,  sort  of  dead  and  dull  and  useless,  until 
Jesus,  the  great  sun  of  our  life,  shines  upon  us 
and  lights  up  our  lives.  The  only  way  for  us  to 
be  bright  and  useful  is  to  have  Jesus  shine  upon 
us.  If  we  stay  near  Him  we  will  be  like  Him. 

Frederick  is  well  now  and  lives  out  in  a  real 
live  world  and  some  day  when  I  see  him  I  am 
going  to  preach  this  story-sermon  to  him  and 
then  read  and  explain  to  him  this  sermon-story 
in  rhyme : 

“A  Persian  fable  says :  One  day 
A  wanderer  found  a  lump  of  clay 
So  redolent  of  sweet  perfume, 

Its  odours  scented  all  the  room. 

‘What  art  thou  ?’  was  his  quick  demand ; 

‘Art  thou  some  gem  from  the  Samarkand, 

Or  Spikenard  in  this  rude  disguise, 

Or  other  costly  merchandise?’ 


30 


A  DEAD  WORLD 


'Nay !  I  am  but  a  lump  of  clay.’ 

‘Then  whence  this  wondrous  sweetness — say?’ 
‘Friend,  if  the  secret  I  disclose, 

I  have  been  dwelling  with  the  rose.’  ” 


Perhaps  that  verse  of  poetry  is  rather  hard 
for  little  children  to  understand,  but  its  meaning 
is  very  simple.  It  means  that  just  as  a  piece 
of  clay  which  has  no  sweetness  in  itself  may 
become  fragrant  by  being  in  the  same  place  with 
a  rose,  so  we  too  may  become  sweet  and  lovely 
by  living  in  the  presence  of  Jesus.  The  sweet¬ 
ness  of  the  rose  sweetens  the  clay,  and  the  love 
and  beauty  of  our  Lord  make  us  kind  and  sweet 
also.  I  am  sure  Frederick  will  understand  both 
the  story  and  the  sermon. 


VI 


THE  GREATEST  CRADLE  IN 
THE  WORLD 

" The  sea  is  his.” — Ps.  95  :  5 

CRADLES  are  out  of  fashion  in  these  days. 
Babies  are  no  longer  in  need  of  cradles. 
They  need,  not  cradles,  but  cold  dark  silent 
rooms,  perfectly  good  old  fashioned  beds,  and  to 
be  left  entirely  alone  to  think  and  to  meditate  and 
not  to  cry. 

Somehow  I  like  the  old  way.  I  know  it’s  not 
the  best  way,  but  still  it  is  best  for  song  and  story 
and  when  you  come  to  think  of  it,  nature  too, 
likes  a  cradle  and  has  no  idea  of  giving  up  to 
our  new-fangled  modern  notions. 

What  is  a  beautiful  valley  lying  between  hills 
and  mountains  but  a  cradle,  soft  and  green,  in 
which  sleep  fields  of  golden  grain  and  pretty  vil¬ 
lages,  and  what  are  the  trees  of  the  forests  and 
the  streets  but  cradles,  rocked  by  the  wind.  You 
remember  the  lullaby  song: 

“Rock-a-bye  baby 
In  the  tree  top, 

When  the  bough  bends 
The  cradle  will  rock.” 

But  the  greatest  cradle  in  the  whole  wide  world 
is  the  sea.  The  deep,  dark,  boundless  sea  is  the 

31 


32  GREATEST  CRADLE  IN  THE  WORLD 

greatest  cradle  in  the  world.  The  very  first  bed 
God  ever  made  was  the  sea  and  there  the  first 
life  was  cradled.  What  a  cradle  it  is !  How  great 
it  is !  It  rocks  from  East  to  West,  from  shore 
to  shore,  and  ships  and  islands  and  continents 
sleep  in  it.  You  know  what  the  old  song  says : 

“Rocked  in  the  cradle  of  the  deep 
I  lay  me  down  in  peace  to  sleep ; 

Secure  I  rest  upon  the  wave, 

For  Thou,  O  Lord !  hast  power  to  save. 

I  know  Thou  wilt  not  slight  my  call, 

For  Thou  dost  mark  the  sparrow’s  fall; 

And  calm  and  peaceful  shall  I  sleep, 

Rocked  in  the  cradle  of  the  deep.” 

How  cold  it  is!  The  icy  waters  of  the  far 
North  and  of  the  far  South  slip  down  into  its 
depths.  How  deep  it  is!  You  could  never  reach 
down  into  it  with  your  arms.  The  highest  moun¬ 
tain  in  the  world  could  lie  down  in  it  and  be 
lost  from  sight.  How  heavy  is  its  covering!  I 
suppose  that  is  because  it  is  so  cold.  Do  you  know 
if  you  were  to  lie  down  at  the  bottom  of  this  great 
cradle  you  would  have  to  carry  about  250  tons 
of  watery  bed  covers.  Think  of  that! 

Away  down  at  the  bottom  of  the  deep,  cold 
cradle  of  the  sea,  it  is  dark  and  still.  There  is 
no  noise  there,  no  light  ever  gets  down  into  that 
quiet  chamber.  Occasionally  a  little  animal  with 
a  little  phosphorescent  light  passes  by  to  see  that 
all  is  well  and  then  everything  is  dark  and  silent 
again. 

And  yet  down  there  in  that  great  cradle  of  the 
sea  little  animals  live  and  thrive,  fed  by  the  sea 


GREATEST  CRADLE  IN  THE  WORLD  33 


dust  that  filters  down  from  above,  for  the  sea 
is  God’s  cradle  and  even  there  God  cares  for  His 
creatures.  In  one  of  the  Psalms  we  read: 

“If  I  take  the  wings  of  the  morning, 

And  dwell  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea; 

Even  there  shall  thy  hand  lead  me, 

And  thy  right  hand  shall  hold  me.” 

If  He  cares  for  the  fish  of  the  deep,  deep  sea,  will 
He  not  care  for  us? 

There  is  no  place  in  all  the  world  where  God 
cannot  come  to  His  children.  When  a  great  hero 
of  the  sea  was  caught  in  a  terrible  storm  and  all 
the  crew  was  in  a  panic  of  fear,  He  calmly  said, 
“We  are  as  near  God  on  the  sea  as  on  the  land.” 
How  true !  And,  after  all,  the  greatest  cradle  in 
the  world  is  not  the  trees  of  the  forest,  or  the 
great  deep  silent  sea,  but  the  arms  of  our  Heavenly 
Father.  Where  in  the  Bible  will  you  find  it  said 
that  “The  Eternal  God  is  our  refuge,  and  under¬ 
neath  are  the  everlasting  arms”  ? 


VII 

WHAT  THE  BELLS  SAY 

“A  golden  bell.” — Ex.  28 :  34 

MORE  than  a  hundred  years  ago  a  sailing 
(  ship  far  out  on  the  sea,  a  hundred  miles 
from  shore,  heard  the  sound  of  church 
bells.  It  was  Sunday  morning  and  the  bells  were 
ringing,  calling  people  to  church.  They  seemed 
to  say : 

“Come  when  I  call, 

Both  great  and  small.” 

At  first  those  upon  the  vessel  thought  it  was  only 
fancy,  for  they  were  far  from  shore.  There  was 
only  one  place  on  the  ship  where  the  bells  could 
be  heard  and  that  was  before  the  bulging  main 
sail,  and  there  the  sound  of  the  church  bells  could 
be  clearly  heard,  calling,  calling,  to  worship  and 
prayer. 

Months  passed  and  the  vessel  one  day  sailed 
into  the  port  of  San  Salvador  and  on  inquiry  the 
sailors  learned  that  at  the  exact  time  when  the 
bells  were  heard  upon  the  ship  far  out  at  sea, 
the  church  bells  of  the  cathedral  were  ringing. 
It  was  a  great  mystery  to  the  sailors,  but  it  is 
easy  for  us  to  understand.  In  our  day  when  we 
know  how  easily  the  air  carries  the  voice  over 

34 


WHAT  THE  BELLS  SAY 


35 


land  and  sea  we  can  understand  how  the  sound 
of  the  bells  could  be  caught  by  the  bulging  sail 
What  a  pleasing  sound  it  is  to  hear  the  call 
of  the  “church  going  belL’  In  old  England  where 
every  village  church  has  a  bell  you  will  find  each 
of  them  has  a  motto  graven  in  the  metal.  Some 
of  these  mottoes  are  interesting.  Here  is  one 
that  says : 

“Come  away, 

Make  no  delay.” 

Another  says : 

“Come  and  pray, 

Hear  and  obey.” 

Sometimes  the  bell  is  vain  and  the  motto  reads : 

“I  am  a  pretty  bell, 

That  you  all  may  see.” 

And  sometimes  the  bell  is  modest  and  sensitive  and 
sometimes  they  tell  the  praises  of  those  who  made 
them : 


“Our  merry  bell  is  mainly  due 
To  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gerald  Carew.” 


Here  is  a  complaining  and  grumbling  motto : 


“Our  tone  would  have  been  made  deeper 
If  contributions  had  been  greater.” 

What  strange  messages  for  church  bells  !  Some 
of  them  are  vain,  some  foolish,  some  selfish,  A 


36 


WHAT  THE  BELLS  SAY 


church  bell  should  send  out  one  clear  note.  It 
should  say,  like  the  bells  of  Bath, 

“Let  Christ  be  known  around, 

And  loved  where’er  we  sound. 

Then  shall  true  jovs  abound. 

Before  Him  lowly  fall, 

Where’er  we  lift  our  call 
And  praise  Him  Lord  of  all.” 

There  is  one  bell,  a  very  little  bell,  that  rings 
sometimes  very  quietly  and  sometimes  sounds  a 
loud  alarm  and  we  can  never  get  away  from  its 
sound.  Do  you  know  its  name?  Yes,  it  is  Con¬ 
science.  Sometimes  it  rings  a  merry,  merry  tune, 
and  sometimes  it  sounds  a  warning.  The  teacher 
examining  a  Sunday  School  said,  “Who  can  tell 
me  what  Conscience  is?”  One  of  the  big  boys 
said,  “It  is  too  big  a  word  for  me.”  Then  the 
teacher  said,  “Did  you  ever  feel  anything  inside 
you  that  said,  'Do  this,’  'Shun  that/  'You  ought 
to  have  done  this/  ‘You  should  not  have  said 
that’?”  “Oh,  yes,”  said  George,  “that  is  Jesus 
ringing  a  bell  in  our  hearts.”  And  George  was 
right.  Better  than  the  call  of  the  church  bell  in 
the  steeple  is  the  call  of  Conscience  which  is  the 
voice  of  Jesus,  guiding  us  in  ways  of  pleasantness 
and  in  paths  of  peace. 


VIII 


THE  UNSEEN  COMRADE 

“Lo,  1  see  four  men  " — Dan.  3 :  25 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  lived  in  the  far 
away  land  of  Babylon  a  great  king.  His 
name  was  Nebuchadnezzar.  What  a  ter¬ 
rible  name  for  a  man  and  it  must  have  been  more 
terrible  for  a  boy.  He  was  a  great,  strong  king, 
and  he  loved  his  own  way.  One  day  he  set  up 
in  Babylon  a  great  image  or  idol  of  gold,  and  or¬ 
dered  every  one  to  worship  it.  Great  plans  were 
made.  It  was  arranged  that  at  a  certain  time 
when  the  people  heard  the  sound  of  “the  cornet, 
flute,  harp,  sackbut,  psaltery,  and  dulcimer”  that 
everybody  should  fall  down  and  worship  the  great 
idol  of  gold.  If  any  should  refuse  to  worship  he 
would  be  cast  into  a  burning,  fiery  furnace. 

When  the  music  sounded  all  the  people  fell 
upon  their  faces.  Did  I  say  all  the  people  ?  I  was 
wrong.  There  were  three  young  men  who  refused 
to  bow  before  the  idol.  They  were  Hebrew  young 
men  with  names  as  strange  as  the  name  of  Nebu¬ 
chadnezzar:  Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego. 
They  worshipped  the  living  and  true  God,  and 
Him  only,  and  they  refused  to  worship  anything 
made  of  gold.  So  they  were  taken  and  bound  and 
cast  into  the  furnace  of  fire.  The  soldiers  thought 

37 


THE  UNSEEN  COMRADE 


38 

they  would  immediately  perish,  but  when  they 
looked  again  into  the  furnace  they  saw  them  walk¬ 
ing  unharmed  in  the  midst  of  the  fire,  and  the 
strangest  of  all  strange  things  they  saw.  They  saw 
not  three  men  but  four.  They  came  running  to 
the  king.  The  king  himself  went  to  the  furnace 
and  looking  in  said,  “Lo  I  see  four  men  loose, 
walking  in  the  midst  of  the  fire,  and  they  have  no 
hurt,  and  the  form  of  the  fourth  is  like  the  Son 
of  God.”  God  Himself  had  entered  into  the. fiery 
furnace  and  kept  His  loyal  servants  safe  from 
harm. 

That  is  an  old,  old  story.  But  I  can  tell  you 
a  new,  new  story  just  like  it.  It  happened  not 
very  long  ago.  A  man  with  another  strange 
name — his  name  was  Shackleton — set  out  in  a 
great  strong  ship  called  the  “Endurance”  to  find 
his  way  to  the  South  Pole.  His  ship  was  crushed 
to  splinters  in  the  ice  and  he  and  his  companions 
nearly  lost  their  lives.  Leaving  the  wrecked  ship 
they  made  their  way  across  ice  and  snow  and  sea 
to  South  Georgia  Island,  and  there  Shackleton 
and  two  of  his  companions,  Worsley  and  Crean, 
made  their  way  across  the  Island,  a  perilous  march 
of  thirty-six  hours,  over  ice  mountains,  down  dan¬ 
gerous  chasms,  and  once  they  let  themselves  over 
a  thirty-foot  waterfall  by  a  rope  and  finally  came 
to  the  whaling  station.  For  a  year  and  a  half  they 
had  been  in  the  lonely  ice  world  and  the  first  to 
meet  these  three  strange  looking  men  were  two 
little  boys  belonging  to  the  station,  who  fled  from 
them  in  terror. 


THE  UNSEEN  COMRADE 


39 


When  they  had  been  warmed  and  washed  and 
clothed,  after  their  long  and  lonely  journey,  Sir 
Ernest  Shackleton  said  to  his  companions,  “It 
seemed  to  me  often  that  we  were  four,  not  three.” 
His  companion  Worsley  said  later,  “Boss,  I  had  a 
curious  feeling  on  the  march  that  there  was  an¬ 
other  person  with  us.”  And  Crean  confessed  that 
he,  too,  had  felt  the  presence  of  the  great  unseen 
Companion. 

So  you  see  whether  it  is  in  the  fire,  or  in  the  ice 
fields,  God  cares  for  those  who  trust  Him,  and 
always  with  us  is  our  unseen  Comrade,  who  says : 

“Fear  not 

For  I  have  redeemed  thee; 

I  have  called  thee  by  thy  name, 

Thou  art  mine. 

When  thou  passest 
Through  the  waters 
I  will  be  with  thee : 

And  through  the  rivers 
They  shall  not  overflow  thee ; 

When  thou  walkest  through  the  fire, 

Thou  shalt  not  be  burned; 

Neither  shall  the  flame 
Kindle  upon  thee, 

For  I  am  Jehovah  thy  God 
The  Holy  One  of  Israel; 

Thy  Saviour.” 


IX 


THE  TEST 

“Try  me.” — Ps.  139:23 

THE  other  day  I  went  with  a  friend  through 
the  great  Carnegie  steel  mills  where  men 
were  busy  at  the  fires  and  furnaces  and 
forges  making  steel  and  turning  it  out  into  rails 
and  beams  and  rods  and  great  sheets  of  steel.  It 
was  very  interesting  and  very  noisy. 

But  the  most  interesting  thing  to  me  was  not 
the  fire,  nor  the  forge,  nor  the  furnace,  but  what 
I  saw  in  a  little  quiet  room  fitted  up  with  strange 
cold  looking  machines,  each  run  by  two  young 
men.  This  was  what  they  called  the  testing  room. 

From  every  furnace  a  sample  of  steel  was  taken. 
A  piece  about  as  long  as  my  arm  or  less,  and  as 
wide  and  thick  as  my  four  fingers.  This  piece  of 
steel  was  gripped  at  each  end  by  one  of  these 
machines  and  pulled  or  stretched,  just  as  you 
would  stretch  a  piece  of  rubber.  You  could  see 
the  steel  as  it  was  drawn  becoming  thinner  and 
thinner  until  suddenly  it  snapped.  Each  of  these 
little  pieces  of  pure  steel  stood  the  test  up  to  about 
56,000  pounds  pressure,  and  then  it  broke.  The 
men  then  knew  where  to  put  the  great  pieces  of 
steel  to  which  the  piece  that  had  been  tested  be¬ 
longed.  If  it  stood  a  high  pressure  they  put  the 

40 


THE  TEST 


4i 


steel  into  railroad  trains  and  automobiles  where 
safety  was  required  and  if  it  stood  only  a  low 
pressure  they  used  it  for  something  less  worthy. 

We,  too,  are  tested.  We  are  tested  out  in  the 
great  world,  at  home,  at  school,  everywhere  we 
are  being  tested  and  tried  and  if  we  prove  worthy 
we  are  given  a  place  of  honour  and  usefulness. 
The  Bible  tells  us  over  and  over  again  that  God 
tests  and  tries  us : 

“The  righteous  God  trieth  the  hearts.” 

“Search  me,  O  God,  and  know  my  heart : 

Try  me,  and  know  my  thoughts.” 

“When  he  hath  tried  me  I  shall  come  forth  as  gold.” 

“Thou,  O  God,  hast  tried  us  as  silver  is  tried.” 

Shortly  after  the  time  of  Jesus  there  lived  a 
great  and  good  man  by  the  name  of  John  Chrysos¬ 
tom.  He  was  called  “the  golden-mouthed” 
preacher.  He  was  a  great  man  and  a  great 
preacher  of  the  Gospel.  The  Roman  Emperor 
ordered  him  to  give  up  his  Christian  faith  or  he 
would  be  exiled.  Chrysostom  replied,  “Thou 
canst  not,  for  the  world  is  my  Father’s  house; 
thou  canst  not  banish  me.”  Then  said  the  em¬ 
peror,  “I  will  slay  thee.”  Chrysostom  replied, 
“Nay,  but  thou  canst  not,  for  my  life  is  hid  with 
Christ  in  God.”  “I  will  take  away  thy  treasure,” 
said  the  emperor.  “Nay,”  said  Chrysostom,  “but 
thou  canst  not,  for  I  have  none  that  thou  knowest 
of.  My  treasure  is  in  heaven.”  “Then,”  said 
the  emperor,  “I  will  drive  thee  from  thy  friends 


42 


THE  TEST 


and  thou  shalt  have  no  friends  left.”  “Nay,”  said 
this  brave  man,  who  was  being  tested  and  tried, 
“thou  canst  not,  for  I  have  a  Friend  from  whom 
thou  canst  not  separate  me.  I  defy  thee.  There 
is  nothing  thou  canst  do  to  hurt  me.” 

What  a  brave  man  he  was,  and  how  nobly  he 
stood  the  test,  and  like  Job  came  forth  as  gold. 
Let  us  make  this  text  our  prayer : 

“Search  me 

O  God 

And  know  my  heart; 

Try  me 

And  know  my  thoughts. 

And  see  if  there  be  any  wicked  way  in  me 

And  lead  me  in  the  way  everlasting.” 


X 


CAMOUFLAGE 


"I  shall  seem  to  him  as  a  deceiver — Gen.  27 :  12 


AMOUFLAGE !  That  is  a  big  word.  It  is 


one  of  the  words  the  war  gave  us.  When 


I  went  to  France  the  ship  was  camouflaged, 
that  is,  it  was  painted  so  as  to  hide  it  when  it  was 
on  the  sea.  The  guns  were  camouflaged,  that  is, 
they  were  covered  with  the  branches  of  trees  to 
make  them  look  like  the  forest  itself.  The  roads 
were  camouflaged,  that  is,  they  were  made  to  look, 
not  like  roads,  but  like  the  fields,  so  the  enemy 
would  not  know. 

There  is  a  wonderful  story  of  camouflage  in 
the  Bible.  It  is  the  story  of  Jacob.  You  remem¬ 
ber  his  mother  wanted  him  to  receive  the  blessing 
of  his  old  blind  father.  So  she  dressed  him  up 
to  make  him  feel  like  Esau.  Esau  was  a  hairy 
man,  and  she  put  skins  of  kids  on  Jacob’s  neck 
and  hands  and  when  he  went  to  seek  his  father’s 
blessing  Isaac,  his  father,  said,  “The  hands  are 
the  hands  of  Esau,  but  the  voice  is  the  voice  of 
Jacob.”  That  was  camouflage. 

It  is  a  bad  thing  to  try  to  cheat  and  deceive  and 
betray.  You  remember  what  Alice  said  to  the 
Duchess  in  “Alice  in  Wonderland.”  She  said, 
“Oh,  I  know  it’s  a  vegetable;  it  doesn’t  look  like 

43 


44 


CAMOUFLAGE 


one,  but  it  is.”  And  the  Duchess  said,  “I  quite 
agree  with  you.  The  moral  of  that  is,  ‘Be  what 
you  seem.’  ”  That  is  a  good  motto.  “Be  what 
you  seem.”  There  is  so  much  sham  and  pretence 
in  the  world.  There  are  so  many  imitations  of 
real  things.  Let  us  be  real  and  be  what  we  seem 
to  be. 

But  there  is  a  good  kind  of  camouflage.  The 
world  is  full  of  it.  We  learned  camouflage  from 
nature.  The  lizard  in  the  grass  is  not  seen  be¬ 
cause  it,  too,  is  green.  The  snake,  too,  we  miss, 
because  it  is  just  the  color  of  the  meadow,  or  the 
soil.  The  spotted  leopard  in  the  jungle  is  perfectly 
camouflaged.  The  polar  bear  in  the  great  white 
wilderness  of  the  North  is  also  white,  as  white  as 
snow.  And  the  animals  and  birds  change  their 
colour  with  the  seasons,  and  with  the  soil.  Some¬ 
times  the  rabbit  and  the  fox  are  white  when  win¬ 
ter  comes ;  and  the  birds  hide  themselves  in  colour 
like  their  own.  There  is  an  old  tale  of  a  chame¬ 
leon  that  when  chased  by  a  dog  suddenly  turned 
around,  opened  its  great  pink  mouth,  and  changed 
colour  so  quickly  that  the  dog  was  scared  nearly 
to  death  and  ran  for  its  life.  They  say  that  once 
a  chameleon,  one  of  these  little  animals  that 
change  their  colour  so  easily,  was  put  on  a  brown 
rug  and  became  brown,  on  a  green  rug  it  was 
green,  on  a  blue  rug  it  was  blue,  and  when  put 
on  a  Persian  rug  it  died.  Of  course  that  is  a 
foolish  tale,  but  animals  find  safety  and  security 
in  adapting  themselves  to  the  colour  of  their  sur¬ 
roundings. 


CAMOUFLAGE 


45 


We,  too,  live  in  a  difficult  and  dangerous  world. 
It  is  not  easy  to  escape  all  our  enemies.  Some¬ 
times  we  have  to  hide  ourselves  in  some  safe 
place.  We  read  in  one  of  the  Psalms  that  in  the 
time  of  trouble  God  will  hide  us,  and  one  man 
offers  a  prayer  that  God  will  “hide  him  under  the 
shadow  of  his  wings.”  That  is  the  best  place  to 
hide  in  time  of  danger. 

“Rock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee.” 

During  the  war  I  remember  going  out  one  dark 
moonless  night  up  to  the  front  line  trenches.  The 
road  came  to  an  end  in  the  woods.  There  in  the 
side  of  a  hill  in  a  little  camouflaged  chapel  we 
found  some  of  our  American  soldiers.  It  was  a 
little  shrine  which  they  had  built,  covered  with 
branches  of  trees  and  so  camouflaged  it  could  not 
be  seen.  There  they  felt  secure  as  in  the  presence 
of  God.  No  enemy  can  find  us,  if  we  hide  our¬ 
selves  with  God.  Martin  Luther  used  to  say,  “If 
any  one  should  come  and  knock  at  my  heart  and 
say,  ‘Who  lives  here?’  I  would  say,  ‘Not  Martin 
Luther,  but  Jesus  Christ  lives  here,’  for  Martin 
Luther’s  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God.” 


XI 


LIVING  GRAIN 

“A  grain  of  wheat  ” — John  12  :24 

DID  you  ever  hear  the  story  of  the  two  bags 
of  grain?  It  is  an  old  Eastern  story  and 
is  like  one  of  the  parables  Jesus  was  fond 
of  telling.  Once  upon  a  time  an  Eastern  prince 
took  a  long  journey  and  left  with  his  two  friends 
two  sacks  of  corn  to  be  kept  till  he  returned.  After 
a  long  time  he  came  back  and  said,  “Where  is  my 
corn  ?”  The  first  friend  led  him  to  his  cellar,  and 
showed  him  the  bag  of  corn,  all  soft  and  rotten 
and  useless.  “Where  is  my  corn?”  he  asked  the 
second,  and  his  friend  led  him  out  to  the  farm 
and  showed  him  a  great  field  of  waving  corn, 
“That  is  your  corn,”  he  said.  Then  the  prince 
told  the  first  friend  he  could  have  the  useless  corn 
in  the  cellar  and  to  the  second  he  said,  “When 
you  reap  the  harvest  give  me  back  one  sack  and 
keep  all  the  rest.”  Which  friend  was  wise? 

If  we  would  keep  grain  we  must  sow  it  in  the 
fields.  Old  grain  will  die  after  a  while. 

Perhaps  you  have  read  stories  to  the  effect  that 
grain  found  in  the  wrappings  of  mummies,  three 
or  four  or  five  thousand  years  old,  if  planted  will 
live  again  and  grow.  I  have  read  such  stories, 

with  exact  dates,  and  wondered  how  they  could 

46 


LIVING  GRAIN 


47 


be  told  over  and  over  again,  for  I  know  that  old 
grain  found  with  mummies  thousands  of  years 
old  does  not  grow. 

One  day  I  asked  a  friend  who  knows  all  about 
such  things.  His  name  is  Dr.  Coulter  and  he 
teaches  Botany  and  other  such  subjects  to  the  stu¬ 
dents  of  the  University  of  Chicago,  and  writes 
about  flowers  and  fruits,  and  wheat  and  corn. 

He  told  me  this  story.  Years  ago,  when  the 
first  mummies  were  found  in  Egypt — you  know 
what  a  mummy  is — a  wise  German  professor  took 
some  of  the  seeds  of  grain  found  in  these  tombs 
and  planted  them  in  his  garden.  Every  morning 
he  went  out  to  see  if  the  corn  had  sprouted  and 
each  morning  he  came  back  into  the  house  shaking 
his  head  and  saying,  “No,  there  is  no  sign  of  li fe.,> 
Days  went  by,  and  he  was  quite  disappointed  and 
ready  to  admit  that  old,  old  grain,  thousands  of 
years  old,  would  not  grow  again. 

The  German  professor  had  two  boys,  two  small 
boys,  and  there  is  nothing  too  hard  or  too  difficult 
for  two  small  boys.  Seeing  their  father’s  disap¬ 
pointment  they  set  to  work  to  cheer  his  heart,  and 
to  cause  the  old  Egyptian  grain  to  grow.  So  they 
found  some  real  fresh  wheat  and  sowed  it  in  the 
garden  where  their  father  had  sowed  the  old  grain 
and  pretty  soon  it  sprouted  and  the  green  blades 
came  up  through  the  ground  and  the  German  pro¬ 
fessor  rubbed  his  hands  and  laughed  and  said, 
“True,  the  old  grain  grows  again.”  Then  he  sat 
down  and  wrote  out  the  story  and  it  was  printed 
in  a  German  paper. 


48 


LIVING  GRAIN 


Little  by  little,  however,  the  true  story  leaked 
out,  for  the  boys  told  what  they  had  done  to  a 
friend  of  their  father.  He  was  disturbed.  Would 
he  keep  quiet,  or  would  he  tell  the  professor?  He 
decided  to  tell  and  so  their  father  had  to  write 
to  the  same  paper  and  deny  his  first  story,  and 
say  that  old  grain,  found  in  the  cases  of  mummies, 
thousands  of  years  old,  does  not  grow.  But  the 
truth  has  never  caught  up  with  the  first  lie,  and 
it  is  still  told  that  grain  never  loses  its  life. 

But  it  does.  Grain  does  die.  The  only  way  to 
keep  grain  living  is  to  sow  it,  plant  it  in  the  field. 
That  is  what  Jesus  said,  “Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto 
you,  except  a  corn  of  wheat  fall  into  the  ground 
and  die  it  abideth  alone,  but  if  it  die,  it  bringeth 
forth  much  fruit.” 

Remember,  then,  the  story  of  the  prince  and 
the  two  sacks  of  corn.  What  we  keep  we  lose. 
What  we  sow  we  keep.  If  we  wish  to  be  rich  we 
must  sow  the  seed  of  good  deeds,  kind  words,  and 
loving  thoughts. 

Remember,  too,  we  can  only  get  a  living  harvest 
from  living  grain.  We  must  not  trust  in  the  past 
but  in  the  present.  We,  indeed,  reap  from  the 
sowing  of  our  parents  and  the  great  and  the  good 
of  the  past,  but  if  others  are  also  to  reap  a  golden 
harvest  we  ourselves  must  sow  living  seed. 

“Let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead; 

Act,  act  in  the  living  present; 

Heart  within,  and  God  o’er  head.” 


XII 

THE  HOME  OF  THE  WHEAT 

“It  may  chance  of  wheat  ” — i  Cor.  15:37 

DID  you  ever  see  a  field  of  golden  grain  out 
on  the  western  prairie?  How  wonderful 
it  is!  How  wide  and  long  the  field  is! 
There  are  acres  and  acres  and  miles  and  miles 
of  waving  wheat  soon  to  be  cut  and  then  threshed 
and  then  ground  up  into  fine  white  flour.  It  is  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  sights  in  the  world.  And 
how  useful,  for  all  these  great  gardens  of  wheat 
are  to  be  turned  into  bread.  Where  did  the  beau¬ 
tiful  wheat  come  from?  We  know  now  that 
wheat  is  very,  very  old.  We  are  told  that  wheat 
was  harvested  ten  thousand  years  ago.  They  grew 
wheat  and  ate  bread,  but  not  beautiful  bread  like 
ours,  away  back  in  Egypt  and  Greece  and  Baby¬ 
lon.  Last  year  in  America  there  were  300,000,000 
bushels  of  what  is  called  Marquis  wheat  harvested. 
This  is  the  wonderful  spring  wheat  which  grows 
in  Canada  and  the  United  States.  Now  the  won¬ 
derful  thing  is  that  all  this  mighty  harvest  of 
wheat  came  from  a  single  grain  of  wheat  planted 
in  a  garden  at  Ottawa  in  Canada  by  Dr.  Charles 
E.  Sanders  in  1903.  This  is  the  way  wheat  multi¬ 
plies,  in  1903  one  grain  and  in  1923,  twenty  years 
after,  300,000,000  bushels.  How  many  loaves  of 

49 


50 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  WHEAT 


bread  would  300,000,000  bushels  of  fine  hard 
wheat  make? 

But  where  did  that  one  single  grain  come  from  ? 
Where  is  the  home  of  this  great  bread-making 
plant?  Well,  we  are  told  that  its  home  is  on  Mt. 
Hermon,  and  along  the  Jordan  in  the  Holy  Land. 
For  this  reason  Palestine  is  called  the  “cradle  of 
the  cereals.”  There  it  still  grows  wild  and  it  has 
been  taken  and  cultivated  and  developed,  and  now' 
we  have  our  wheat  and  our  beautiful  bread.  This 
is  very  interesting.  Jesus  called  Himself  the 
Bread  of  Life,  and  we  have  found  that  out  of  the 
same  country  that  gave  us  Jesus  there  has  come 
also  the  bread  that  feeds  our  bodies.  From  the 
same  Holy  Land  has  come  the  bread  for  the  soul 
and  the  bread  for  the  body.  And  both  have  come 
from  God  our  Father,  who  cares  for  all  His  chil¬ 
dren.  Of  Jesus,  the  living  bread,  we  think  when 
we  say : 

“Break  thou  the  Bread  of  Life, 

Dear  Lord,  to  me 

As  Thou  didst  break  the  loaves 

Beside  the  sea.” 

Of  the  great  harvest  wheat  fields  we  think  when 
we  say : 

“Back  of  the  loaf  is  the  snowy  flour, 

And  back  of  the  flour  the  mill; 

And  back  of  the  mill  is  the  wheat  and  the  shower, 

And  the  sun  and  the  Father’s  will.” 

And  so  we  pray: 

“Give  us  this  day, 

Our  daily  bread.” 


XIII 


SHOOTING  STARS 

“ Like  wandering  stars  ” — Jude  13 

DID  you  ever  see  a  star  shoot  straight 
across  the  sky?  How  swift  and  straight 
it  goes.  I  was  in  France  on  Easter  Day 
when  the  great  German  gun  fired  a  shell  into 
Paris,  seventy  miles  away,  and  killed  many  people. 
But  that  is  nothing  compared  to  the  distance  trav¬ 
elled  by  a  shooting  star. 

What  is  a  shooting  star?  It  is  a  great  piece 
of  stone  or  iron  or  metal,  travelling  through  the 
air  at  the  rate  of  twenty  or  thirty  miles  a  second. 
When  it  gets  about  seventy-five  miles  from  the 
earth,  the  air  puts  on  the  brakes,  as  it  were,  and 
the  great  mass  begins  to  glow  and  burn.  You 
know  how  brakes  on  a  train  or  a  car  can  make 
the  wheels  hot,  and  perhaps  set  them  on  fire.  So 
the  air  acts  as  a  brake  upon  the  falling  rock,  or 
star,  as  we  call  it,  and  it  takes  fire  and  when  it  is 
about  twenty  miles  from  the  earth  it  just  burns 
up  and  disappears  in  a  sort  of  fiery  vapour.  We 
are  told  that  from  ten  to  one  hundred  millions  of 
these  shooting  stars  are  burned  up  and  cremated 
every  day.  Some  weigh  an  ounce,  some  a  ton, 
but  almost  every  one  is  caught  in  the  air  which, 
like  a  torpedo  net,  protects  our  world. 


5* 


SHOOTING  STARS 


Sometimes  a  great  many  of  these  wandering 
stars  are  drawn  into  a  group,  and  this  swarm  of 
shooting  stars  is  called  a  comet.  They  are  caught 
by  the  attractive  power  of  the  sun  and  made  to 
travel  round  his  throne.  They  travel  so  fast  that 
a  long  thin  tail  is  formed.  The  great  comet  of 
1843  had  a  tail  200,000,000  miles  long,  and  trav¬ 
elled  around  the  sun  300  or  400  miles  a  second. 
No  wonder  we  are  half  afraid  of  comets  and 
shooting  stars  that  wander  like  lost  worlds  in  the 
upper  air.  The  stars  that  help  us  stay  in  their 
places  and  keep  their  course.  This  is  why  we 
think  of  them  as  singing  as  they  shine.  Our 
world  with  its  sun  and  moon  and  stars  is  so 
beautiful  because  they  are  obedient  to  the  will 
of  God,  which  is  the  law  of  their  life,  and  our 
lives  will  be  beautiful  and  useful  only  as  we,  too, 
are  obedient  to  our  Heavenly  Father. 

In  an  old  cemetery  where  there  are  many  old 
graves  and  many  strange  mottoes  on  the  stones, 
there  is  one  which  I  like  to  think  about.  It  is 
very,  very  old,  and  weather-worn,  and  there  are 
just  three  words  on  it.  One  of  the  words  is  the 
name  of  a  little  boy,  “Freddie,”  and  under  his 
name  these  two  words,  “Yes,  Father.”  It  is  a 
good  thing  to  say  “Yes”  to  God.  There  is  no 
better  motto  than  that.  It  is  a  good  motto  for 
school,  and  home,  and  church. 

Think  of  the  men  in  the  Bible  who  are  like 
shooting  stars,  wandering  from  God,  and  dis¬ 
appearing  in  the  darkness. 


SHOOTING  STARS 

Cain  was  the  first  shooting  star. 


53 


Lot  was  a  shooting  star. 

Saul,  the  first  king,  was  a  shooting  star. 

So  was  Samson,  and  so  was  Solomon. 

Judas  was  a  shooting  star. 

So  was  Demas.  Do  you  know  about  Demas? 

Then  name  over  all  the  wonderful  fixed  stars 
in  the  Bible.  Men  like  Abraham,  and  Moses,  and 
David  and  Paul,  and  Peter  and  John,  and  women 
like  Ruth  and  Esther  and  Mary  and  Dorcas. 
Do  you  know  about  Dorcas?  Shooting  stars 
leave  their  places  and  fall  into  the  night.  The 
stars  that  are  obedient  keep  their  appointed 
courses, 


“And  utter  forth  a  glorious  voice, 
Forever  singing  as  they  shine, 

‘The  hand  that  made  us  is  Divine.’” 


Obedience  is  the  path  to  joy  and  peace. 


XIV 

FLOWERS  AND  PRAYERS 

"A  sweet  savour — Gen.  8:21 

FLOWERS  speak  a  language  of  their  own. 
The  red  rose  speaks  of  love  and  the  poet 
sings  about  it  in  beautiful  words: 

“Oh,  my  love  is  like  a  red,  red  rose, 

That’s  newly  sprung  in  June.” 

The  white  rose  and  lily  speak  of  purity,  and  we 
talk  of  one  who  “bears  the  white  flower  of  a 
blameless  life.”  The  carnation  reminds  us  of 
mother  and  Mother’s  Day,  and  the  four  leafed 
clover  we  say  speaks  of  “good  luck”  and  the 
hedge  rose  with  its  thorns  says,  “Beware.”  The 
poppy  makes  us  think  of  the  soldiers  who  lie 
sleeping  in  Flanders  Fields  between  the  white 
crosses  row  on  row : 

“In  Flanders  Fields  the  poppies  blow 
Between  the  crosses,  row  on  row, 

That  mark  our  place ;  and  in  the  sky 
The  larks,  still  bravely  singing,  fly, 

Scarce  heard  amid  the  guns  below.” 

There  is  an  old  notion  that  prayers  are  like 
flowers.  I  have  often  wondered  why  prayers  and 
flowers  belong  together  and  now  I  understand. 
It  is  because  of  their  beauty,  especially  the  beauty 

54 


FLOWERS  AND  PRAYER 


55 


of  their  perfume,  which  ascends  from  both  flow¬ 
ers  and  prayers.  There  is  a  fragrance  that  be¬ 
longs  only  to  flowers  and  prayers.  The  Bible 
tells  us  that  prayers  are  sweet  to  God.  In  great 
cathedrals  sweet  smelling  incense  is  used  to  sug¬ 
gest  that  prayer  is  pleasing  to  God.  Like  prayer 
it  ascends.  It  is  fragrant.  It  is  sweet.  But  I 
like  to  think  that  the  sweetness  of  prayer  is  more 
like  the  fragrance  of  beautiful  flowers. 

And  perhaps  this  is  the  way  to  explain  a  beau¬ 
tiful  old  story.  One  night,  when  the  birds  were 
asleep  and  the  moon  was  behind  a  thin,  silvery 
cloud,  a  mother  who  was  watching  her  little  girl 
lying  in  her  crib  fell  asleep  herself  and  as  she 
slept  she  dreamed  a  dream.  She  dreamed  that 
she  was  in  heaven  and  saw  all  the  prayers  come 
in  and  they  came  in  as  flowers  come  to  the  home 
on  Easter  Day  or  to  the  hospital  when  we  are 
sick.  The  prayers  came  up  to  heaven  like  flow¬ 
ers  and  the  angels  carried  them  into  a  beautiful 
room  to  arrange  them  and  to  sort  them.  Some 
were  in  full  bloom  and  some  were  only  in  bud. 
Sometimes  there  was  a  single  flower  and  some¬ 
times  there  were  great  clusters  of  them.  Sud¬ 
denly  the  angel  paused  and  then  picking  up  a  deli¬ 
cate  little  rosebud,  was  about  to  leave  the  room, 
now  so  full  of  fragrance  and  loveliness.  Holding 
up  the  little  rosebud  the  angel  said,  “This  is  for 
the  Master,,,  and  the  mother  said,  “Whence  is  the 
rosebud  ?  Who  sent  it  ?  What  is  it  ?”  Then  the 
angel  smiled  and  said,  “Oh,  knowest  thou  not? 
This  is  the  first  prayer  of  a  little  child.”  Then 


FLOWERS  AND  PRAYER 


56 

the  mother  awoke  and  looked  into  the  face  of  her 
little  girl  who  had  fallen  asleep  with  a  prayer 
upon  her  lips. 

“The  first  prayer  of  a  little  child.”  That  I 
think  is  the  most  beautiful  prayer  of  all.  Surely 
it  is  like  a  rosebud,  in  the  Master’s  hand. 

You  know  how  eagerly  we  listen  to  a  little 
child’s  first  word  and  how  we  treasure  it.  Prayer 
is  just  speaking  to  God,  and  a  little  child’s  first 
prayer  is  the  first  word  spoken  to  God  and  He 
listens  for  that  first  prayer  just  as  a  mother  listens 
for  and  loves  her  child’s  first  word. 


XV 

THE  GREATEST  MILL  IN  THE  WORLD 

“Out  of  their  holes  like  worms” — Micah  7:17 

HERE  is  a  riddle.  What  is  the  greatest 
mill  in  the  world?  I  feel  sure  you  can 
never  guess  it.  Let  us  count  over  all  the 
mills  we  know.  First  of  all  there  is  the  mill 
where  grain  is  ground  into  flour.  We  call  it  a 
flour  mill  or  a  grist  mill,  and  we  have  all  seen 
those  great  flour  mills  where  harvest  fields  of 
wheat  are  ground  up  to  make  flour  for  bread. 
It  was  of  the  miller  of  such  a  mill  that  the  old 
folks  used  to  sing : 

“There  was  a  jolly  miller  once 
Lived  on  the  River  Dee ; 

He  worked  and  sang  from  morn  till  night, 

No  lark  more  blithe  than  he. 

“And  this  the  burden  of  his  song 
Forever  used  to  be, 

‘I  care  for  nobody,  no,  not  I, 

If  no  one  cares  for  me.’  ” 

He  was  a  rather  selfish,  independent  old  miller,  I 
guess.  But  a  flour  mill  is  not  the  greatest  mill 
in  the  world. 

Then  there  are  great  steel  mills  here  in  Pitts¬ 
burgh  that  roar  and  flash  and  smoke  and  some¬ 
times  make  noises  like  thunder  and  send  out  flames 

57 


58  GREATEST  MILL  IN  THE  WORLD 

like  lightning.  They  line  the  banks  of  our  great 
rivers  for  miles,  but  even  they  are  not  the  great¬ 
est  in  the  world. 

The  greatest  mill  in  the  world  is  quiet,  and  very 
still.  It  never  thunders.  It  never  roars.  You 
could  pass  over  it  and  never  notice  it.  No,  it  is 
not  a  beehive,  although  that  is  a  great  mill,  but 
it  is  not  quiet  and  still,  for  bees  buzz  and  fret  and 
fume  a  great  deal.  No,  it  is  not  an  ant  hill,  but 
you  are  getting  nearer,  “getting  hot,”  as  we  say. 
An  ant  hill  is  a  great  mill,  and  it  is  quiet  and  silent 
and  so  busy  that  if  you  put  a  thermometer  right 
into  an  ant  hill  you  will  find  there  is  a  rise  in  tem¬ 
perature  on  account  of  the  work  done  in  that  little 
mill.  Will  you  give  up?  You  can  never  guess. 
Let  me  tell  you. 

Well,  the  greatest  miller  in  the  world  is — a 
worm.  Yes,  an  earthworm,  what  we  call  a  fish- 
worm,  a  common  angle-worm.  It  is  the  greatest 
miller  in  the  world  and  the  greatest  mill  is  the 
soil  where  the  earthworms  work  and  burrow.  If 
the  earthworms  did  not  work  and  keep  on  plough¬ 
ing  and  cultivating  the  soil  this  earth  of  ours 
would  be  cold  and  hard  and  barren,  the  soil  would 
become  hard  and  cold  as  rock.  It  would  be  like 
baked  clay,  but  the  earthworms  plough  and  culti¬ 
vate  and  make  it  porous  and  loose,  so  that  the 
rain  can  filter  down,  and  the  plants  and  vegetables 
can  grow  and  take  root.  You  never  thought  of 
that,  did  you,?  You  never  knew  these  little,  in¬ 
significant,  harmless,  horrid  worms  were  so  use¬ 
ful.  Well,  that  is  just  the  mistake  we  often  make. 


GREATEST  MILL  IN  THE  WORLD  59 


We  think  we  must  be  big,  and  great  to  be  useful. 
Not  at  all.  The  little  things  are  the  most  useful. 

In  an  acre  of  land,  a  piece  about  as  big  as  our 
church  lot,  a  wise  man  counted  53,000  earth¬ 
worms,  and  in  a  rich  garden  there  would  be  over 
half  a  million.  We  are  told  that  these  worms  pass 
ten  tons  an  acre  through  their  bodies  and  have 
been  doing  this  for  millions  of  years,  grinding, 
ploughing,  cultivating  the  soil  and  making  it  fit 
for  things  to  grow  in.  You  see  then  that  the 
earthworms  are  our  helpers,  and  though  they  are 
so  little  and  so  humble,  yet  they  do  very  useful 
and  necessary  work.  It  is  always  so.  Little 
things  working  together  do  great  things. 

Jesus  said  much  about  the  value  of  little  things. 
He  said  a  cup  of  cold  water  given  in  His  name  was 
something-  done  for  Him.  He  said  that  any  one 
who  was  faithful  about  little  things  would  be 
faithful  in  great  things.  He  praised  the  poor 
widow  for  giving  two  mites  in  the  Temple  offer¬ 
ing.  He  tried  to  make  us  understand  that  the 
little  things  are  after  all  the  big  things.  Do  you 
know  that  St.  Paul’s  Cathedral  in  London,  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  churches  in  the  world,  was 
built  out  of  sixpences,  little  English  pieces  of 
money  like  our  dimes?  How  was  that?  Well, 
when  they  decided  to  build  that  great  and  won¬ 
derful  cathedral  they  placed  a  tax  of  sixpence 
on  every  ton  of  coal  used  in  the  land,  and  out  of 
this  tax  the  beautiful  cathedral  was  built.  Little 
things  grow  into  big  things.  You  do  not  need  to 
wait  until  you  can  do  some  great  and  wonderful 


6o  GREATEST  MILL  IN  THE  WORLD 


thing.  Some  little  word  or  act  of  love  may  grow 
into  what  will  seem  some  day  to  be  a  miracle. 
Don’t  wait  for  the  big  things.  Do  beautiful  little 
things  now. 

"If  any  little  word  of  mine 
May  make  a  life  the  brighter, 

If  any  little  song  of  mine 
May  make  a  heart  the  lighter, 

God  help  me  speak  that  little  word, 

And  take  my  bit  of  singing, 

And  drop  it  in  some  lonely  vale, 

To  set  the  echoes  ringing! 

"If  any  little  love  of  mine 

May  make  a  life  the  sweeter, 

If  any  little  care  of  mine 

May  make  a  friend’s  the  fleeter, 

If  any  lift  of  mine  may  ease 
The  burden  of  another, 

God  give  me  love,  and  care,  and  strength 
To  help  my  toiling  brother!” 


XVI 


HABITS 

“As  His  custom  was” — Luke  4:16 

A  HABIT,  you  know,  is  something  you  wear. 
A  riding  habit  is  what  you  wear  when 
you  ride  a  beautiful  horse.  It  is  some¬ 
thing  that  exactly  fits  you,  that  belongs  to  you, 
and  becomes  you. 

A  little  girl  in  trying  to  tell  what  habit  is  said 
it  is  your  second  self.  And  she  was  right.  You 
can’t  get  away  from  your  habits  any  more  than 
you  can  get  away  from  yourself.  Just  think 
about  it.  If  you  take  away  the  first  letter  you 
still  have  “a  bit”  left.  If  you  take  away  the  sec¬ 
ond  letter  there  is  still  a  “bit”  left.  If  you  take 
away  the  third  letter  you  still  have  “it.”  Our 
habits  are  ourselves. 

A  good  boy  has  good  habits  and  a  bad  boy  has 
bad  habits.  And  our  habits  are  made  when  we 
are  very  young.  Our  brains  when  we  are  little 
children  are  just  like  fluffy  snow.  You  know 
how  soft  and  smooth  new  fallen  snow  is.  Then 
you  see  a  pair  of  little  feet  running  across  the 
snow  and  you  have  footprints  in  the  snow.  Then 
those  same  little  feet  travel  back  over  the  same 

tracks  and  return  and  by  and  by  there  is  a  path 

61 


62 


HABITS 


in  the  snow.  Now  thoughts  and  acts  and  words, 
repeated  again  and  again  make  tracks  in  our  brain 
and  in  our  soul  and  these  paths  when  they  become 
well  beaten  are  habits.  Habits  are  the  paths  our 
thoughts  and  actions  take. 

Last  summer  at  a  farmhouse  near  my  summer 
home  in  Canada  I  saw  an  interesting  example  of 
habit.  My  friend  Mr.  Cotter,  whom  his  good 
wife  calls  “Sack/’  is  the  warden  in  the  little 
church  at  Port  Maitland.  That  is  to  say,  he  is 
the  chief  man,  next  to  the  minister,  and  watches 
over  the  church,  takes  up  the  collection,  and  keeps 
his  eye  on  the  preacher  and  his  ears  open  to  the 
preaching.  His  father  had  been  warden  before 
him  and  before  his  father  his  grandfather  had 
held  the  same  important  position.  So  Mr.  Cotter 
knew  all  about  the  church. 

One  Sunday  morning  as  usual  he  was  getting 
ready  for  church  and  had  harnessed  up  old  Dolly 
and  hitched  her  to  the  buggy  and  then  gone  in  to 
wash  his  hands,  put  on  his  coat  and  take  a  last 
look  at  himself  in  the  glass.  That  is  the  way 
all  good  farmers  do.  They  dress  the  horse  first, 
and  then  themselves. 

When  he  came  out  Dolly  was  gone.  She  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen.  He  looked  in  the  shed,  and 
in  the  field  and  behind  the  barn,  but  there  was  no 
Dolly.  Where  do  you  think  she  was?  Yes!  She 
had  gone  off  herself  with  the  empty  buggy  to 
church  and  Mr.  Cotter  found  her  looking  over 
the  fence,  listening  to  the  first  hymn.  Old  Dolly, 
better  than  most  people,  had  good  old-fashioned 


HABITS  63 

habits  of  church-going,  and  she  had  a  fine  habit 
of  being  on  time. 

If  you  will  take  your  New  Testament  you  will 
find  that  three  times  we  are  told  about  the  habits 
of  Jesus.  When  He  was  twelve  years  old  we 
read  that  according  to  His  habit  He  went  up  to  the 
feast  at  Jerusalem.  When  He  became  a  full 
grown  man  He  returned  from  His  work  to  His 
own  village  at  Nazareth  and  there  according  to 
His  habit  He  entered  into  the  little  synagogue  and 
took  part  in  the  service.  Then  near  the  close  of 
His  life  we  read  that  according  to  His  habit  He 
went  out  into  the  Mount  of  Olives  to  pray.  These 
were  Jesus’  habits.  He  had  good  home  habits, 
good  church  habits  and  good  prayer  habits.  Take 
your  Bible  and  find  the  verses  where  these  habits 
of  Jesus  are  spoken  of.  You  will  find  them  all 
in  the  Gospel  of  Luke.  You  will  not  find  the 
word  “habit”  but  the  word  “custom,”  which 
means  the  same.  And  then  sit  down  and  count 
over  your  habits,  and  ask  yourself  if  you  have 
good  church  habits,  good  prayer  habits,  good  study 
habits,  for  your  habits  are  just  yourself. 


XVII 

TRY— KEEP  TRYING 

"Unto  the  end ” — Matt.  24:  13 

ZACCHZEUS!  Did  you  ever  hear  of  him? 
What  do  you  know  of  him?  Let  us  count 
up  all  the  things  we  know  about  him.  He 
was  a  Jew,  but  he  was  in  the  employ  of  the  Roman 
government,  and  was  thought  of  as  a  traitor  to 
his  country.  He  was  rich,  and  had  a  fine  house 
in  the  city  of  Jericho.  He  was  a  success  in  life, 
and  was  the  chief  man  among  the  publicans  or 
tax  collectors.  He  was  very  small,  and  could  not 
see  over  the  heads  of  other  people  when  in  a  crowd. 
He  was  anxious  to  see  Jesus,  so  he  pushed  his 
way  out  of  the  crowd,  climbed  up  a  tree,  and 
there  he  saw  Jesus,  and  Jesus  saw  him,  and  they 
became  friends.  You  remember  the  story.  Zac- 
chasus  when  he  found  he  could  not  see  Jesus  be¬ 
cause  of  the  great  crowd  did  not  turn  away  and 
go  home.  He  tried  again,  and  overcame  all  ob¬ 
stacles  and  at  last  found  himself  with  Jesus  as 
his  guest  in  his  own  house. 

The  only  way  to  succeed  is  to  try.  Even  the 
birds  and  the  cattle  fail  and  try  again,  until  they 
win.  The  beautiful  salmon  that  swim  in  the  great 
rivers  and  the  beautiful  trout  that  dart  so  quickly 
from  stone  to  stone  leap  the  rapids  and  falls  of 

64 


TRY— KEEP  TRYING  65 

the  rivers  and  go  up  and  up  to  the  head  waters 
where  they  make  their  homes.  In  a  great  rushing 
river  with  its  seething  currents,  its  spray  and 
foam,  you  can  see  the  great  salmon  again  and 
again  jump  out  of  the  water  and  make  a  flying 
leap  up  the  rushing,  roaring  waterfall.  Some 
fail,  but  others  try  and  try  again  and  when  they 
win  they  rush  far  up  the  stream  where  they  make 
their  homes  and  lay  their  eggs.  There  are  just 
two  kinds  of  fish  in  the  sea,  swimmers  and  drift¬ 
ers,  and  there  are  just  two  kinds  of  people.  There 
are  those  who  drift  with  the  current  and  do  what 
every  one  else  does,  and  there  are  those  who  direct 
their  lives  according  to  a  purpose. 

Did  you  ever  hear  the  proverb,  “God  helps 
those  who  help  themselves,”  which  means  that 
God  gives  aid  to  those  who  try?  There  is  an 
interesting  story  about  William  Carey,  the  great 
missionary  to  India.  You  know  he  w*as  a  cobbler, 
and  in  his  shop  he  had  a  map  of  the  world  and 
thought  about  the  world  and  prayed  for  it,  and 
at  last  God  called  him  to  go  out  to  India  as  one 
of  the  first  missionaries.  He  was  a  great  man. 
His  motto  was : 

“Expect  great  things  from  God. 

Attempt  great  things  for  God.” 

He  overcame  many  things  by  trying  and  he 
learned  this  great  lesson  in  his  early  life. 

When  he  was  a  boy  he  was  very  ambitious  and 
never  permitted  anything  to  beat  him  if  he  could 
help  it.  In  his  play  as  well  as  in  his  work  he  al- 


66 


TRY— KEEP  TRYING 


ways  wanted  to  succeed.  There  was  a  tree  near 
his  home  that  none  of  his  boy  friends  had  been 
able  to  climb.  He  was  eager  to  climb  that  tree 
and  tried  and  tried  again  but  always  failed.  But 
he  said,  “It  shall  not  beat  me.  I  mean  to  climb 
that  tree.” 

So  every  day  he  tried  to  climb  the  tree,  but 
made  no  progress.  One  day,  however,  after  tear¬ 
ing  his  clothes  and  scratching  his  legs  he  got  more 
than  half  way  up,  when  down  he  fell,  all  in  a 
heap,  and  when  he  tried  to  get  up  he  could  not. 
His  leg  was  broken. 

He  was  just  a  lad  and  he  suffered  a  great  deal. 
For  six  long  weeks  he  lay  on  his  little  bed  unable 
to  get  up.  Then  he  began  to  walk  around  the 
house  and  soon  he  was  out  in  the  yard.  What  do 
you  think  he  did  ?  Well,  the  first  thing  he  did  was 
to  go  to  that  very  tree  and  try  to  climb  it  again 
and  he  did.  He  went  to  the  top  and  down  again 
and  he  was  satisfied. 

That  was  the  stuff  out  of  which  the  great  mis¬ 
sionary  hero  was  made.  Little  wonder  he  is  still 
remembered  for  the  great  work  he  did  in  India. 
It  was  the  same  talent  to  keep  on  and  to  try  again 
that  brought  Zacchseus  face  to  face  with  Jesus. 
Let  nothing  keep  you  from  Jesus,  your  best  friend. 
Take  for  your  motto  the  words  of  William  Carey : 

“Expect  great  things  from  God. 

Attempt  great  things  for  God.” 


XVIII 


THE  WORST  PARASITE 

“Sin  lieth  at  the  door.” — Gen.  4 :  7 

IN  the  third  chapter  of  Genesis  sin  is  likened 
to  a  serpent,  a  sly,  sneaking,  subtle  serpent, 
that  slips  into  our  garden  and  strikes  us  with 
its  fangs.  In  the  fourth  chapter  sin  is  likened 
unto  a  tiger  that  looks  as  if  it  were  asleep  on  the 
door  step,  but  is  really  waiting,  crouched  ready 
to  spring  in  and  destroy  all  that  is  in  the  house 
as  soon  as  the  door  is  opened. 

You  know  what  a  parasite  is.  It  is  something 
that  feeds  on  others.  It  prowls  around  like  a 
bandit  and  attacks  others.  All  our  diseases  really 
come  from  little  unseen  parasites  that  get  into  our 
flesh  and  blood  and  live  on  our  life.  A  parasite 
lies  in  wait  at  the  doors  of  houses  and  nests  and 
looks  for  a  chance  to  enter  and  destroy.  Well, 
sin  is  the  worst  of  all  parasites. 

Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  golden  wasp?  It  is  a 
very  beautiful  creature  and  gets  itself  up  in  ele¬ 
gant  garments  of  green  and  gold  and  pink  and 
purple.  It  goes  about  among  the  flowers  and 
garden  glories  like  a  miniature  humming  bird.  It 
does  not  look  like  a  parasite,  a  thief,  or  a  robber, 
but  it  is.  It  is  a  dangerous,  though  very  attractive 
looking  criminal,  The  golden  wasp  is  just  as 

6? 


68 


THE  WORST  PARASITE 


lazy  and  as  good-for-nothing  as  it  is  beautiful. 
It  is  a  bandit  and  a  brigand.  It  steals.  It  waits 
around  at  the  door  of  the  fly-hunting  wasp,  that 
has  been  off  in  the  fields  searching  and  toiling  for 
food,  and  waits  until  it  comes  home  with  some 
dainty  morsel  for  its  children.  The  golden  wasp 
cannot  break  into  the  house,  for  it  is  safely  closed, 
and  it  does  not  know  how  to  dig  or  work.  So  it 
waits  its  chance  and  when  the  fly-hunting  wasp 
returns  and  opens  the  door  the  golden  wasp  like 
a  sneak  thief  enters  also  and  hides  away  in  the 
back  of  the  nest.  When  next  year  comes  round 
the  children  of  the  fly-hunting  wasp,  for  whom  the 
house  was  built,  are  all  gone,  and  instead  the 
children  of  the  golden  wasp  are  in  possession. 
The  golden  wasp’s  grub  devoured  the  grub  so 
carefully  housed  by  the  fly-hunting  wasp.  What 
a  criminal  it  is! 

The  world  is  full  of  beautiful  looking  animals 
that  are  parasites  and  live  on  the  life  of  others. 
A  friend  of  mine  passing  along  the  highway  one 
day  heard  a  bird  making  a  piteous  noise.  It  kept 
flying  to  him  and  then  back  to  the  tree  and  he 
knew  something  was  wrong.  He  stopped  and  fol¬ 
lowed  the  flying  bird  to  the  bushes  and  on  the 
ground  he  saw  a  little  bird.  There  was  a  thin 
streak  of  blood  on  its  breast.  He  picked  it  up  and 
with  his  handkerchief  wiped  away  the  blood  stain, 
and  was  about  to  put  it  back  in  the  nest  when  a 
great  snake  lifted  its  head  from  the  nest.  No 
wonder  the  mother  bird  was  calling  and  crying. 
A  snake  was  in  her  nest  feeding  upon  the  little 


THE  WORST  PARASITE  69 

birds.  My  friend  watched  the  snake  and  won¬ 
dered  how  it  had  got  into  the  nest,  for  it  was 
many  feet  above  the  ground.  He  saw  the  snake 
crawl  along  the  limb  out  to  the  farthest  branch 
and  there  hanging  by  its  tail,  swung  itself  back 
and  forth  until  it  was  able  to  touch  a  small  tree 
into  which  it  leaped. 

But  it  did  not  escape.  He  killed  it,  and  you 
can  see  that  snake  in  the  Museum  at  Washington 
and  Jefferson  College. 

Sin  is  just  a  parasite  coming  like  a  Snake  to 
bite,  or  like  a  wasp  to  sting,  or  like  a  tiger  to  de¬ 
stroy.  There  are  two  things  for  us  to  do.  First, 
we  must  keep  the  door  tightly  closed,  keep  the 
entrance  barred  and  bolted  to  all  who  seek  to  do 
us  harm.  This  is  what  the  Bible  tells  us  to  do, 
“Keep  thy  heart  with  all  diligence  for  out  of  it  are 
the  issues  of  life.” 

Second,  let  us  make  God  the  keeper  of  our  lives. 
He  can  keep  us  safely.  The  121st  Psalm  is  called 
“The  Keeper’s  Psalm,”  and  it  has  the  promise 
“The  Lord  is  thy  keeper.”  One  of  the  great  mis¬ 
sionaries  of  Africa  said,  “I  have  locked  the  door 
of  my  heart,  and  Jesus  has  the  key.”  That  is  the 
way  of  safety. 

“Except  the  Lord  keep  the  city 
The  watchman  waketh  but  in  vain.” 


XIX 


BE  SOMEBODY 

“I  will  make  you.” — Mark  1:17 

HIS  first  name  was  Leon.  He  was  a  poor 
French  boy.  When  he  left  home  his 
mother,  who  kept  a  little  shop,  said  to 
him,  “My  boy,  before  you  come  back  try  to  be 
somebody.”  He  went  to  Paris  and  studied  hard. 
When  other  boys  were  loafing  and  smoking  cig¬ 
arettes  Leon  was  reading  in  his  little  attic  in  the 
Latin  Quarter  at  Paris.  He  worked  hard.  He 
did  become  “somebody.”  He  became  the  first  man 
in  France.  His  name  was  Gambetta  and  when  he 
died  men  said,  “France  has  lost  her  greatest  man.’' 

It  is  wonderful  how  many  men  who  began  as 
“nobodies”  really  became  “somebodies.”  Of 
course,  everything  worth  while  begins  that  way. 
The  great  oak  was  once  a  tiny  acorn.  The  mighty 
river  was  once  a  little  brook.  Jesus,  the  greatest 
of  men,  was  once  a  carpenter.  Take  your  Bible 
and  see  how  many  nobodies  became  somebodies. 

Who  was  Abraham  ?  He  came  out  of  a  heathen 
land  and  his  father  worshipped  idols,  but  he  be¬ 
came  the  father  of  a  great  nation.  Who  was 
Joseph?  He  was  the  youngest  son,  and  began 
life  as  a  messenger  boy  and  later  was  sold  as  a 

70 


BE  SOMEBODY 


7i 


slave,  but  he  became  prime  minister  of  Egypt. 
Who  was  Moses  ?  He  was  found  in  a  basket,  be¬ 
side  the  river  Nile.  He  was  the  child  of  slaves, 
but  he  became  the  greatest  statesman  the  world 
has  ever  known. 

Who  was  Ruth  ?  She  was  a  heathen  girl,  born 
in  Moab,  but  she  became  the  great  grandmother 
of  King  David  and  the  sweetest  woman  in  the 
Old  Testament.  Who  was  David?  He  was  a 
shepherd  lad,  keeping  his  sheep  around  Bethlehem, 
but  he  became  king  of  Israel.  Who  was  Esther? 
She  was  a  Jewish  girl,  an  orphan,  who  became 
Queen  of  Persia,  and  one  of  the  heroines  of  his¬ 
tory. 

Turn  now  to  the  New  Testament. 

Who  was  John  the  Baptist?  He  was  a  “wil¬ 
derness”  man,  living  in  the  desert,  but  he  became 
the  herald  of  Jesus  the  Saviour. 

Who  was  Mary  ?  She  was  an  obscure  maiden, 
living  in  the  little  village  of  Nazareth,  but  she 
became  the  mother  of  Jesus. 

Who  were  John,  and  James,  and  Peter  and 
Andrew?  They  were  fishermen,  but  now  they 
belong  to  the  glorious  company  of  the  Apostles. 

It  matters  little  where  we  come  from.  It  mat¬ 
ters  a  great  deal  where  we  are  going.  When 
Matthew  Henry,  the  great  Bible  student,  pro¬ 
posed  marriage  to  the  beautiful  girl  who  later 
became  his  wife,  her  parents  said  “No.  We  know 
nothing  about  him.  We  do  not  even  know  where 
he  came  from.”  She  replied,  “But  I  know  where 
he  is  going,  and  I  wish  to  go  with  him.” 


72 


BE  SOMEBODY 


Now  turn  to  history.  ^Esop,  who  wrote  the 
wonderful  stories  we  call  Fables,  was  a  slave. 

Robert  Burns,  the  poet  of  Scotland,  was  a  poor 
farmer’s  son. 

John  Runyan,  who  wrote  “Pilgrim’s  Progress,” 
one  of  the  greatest  of  books,  was  a  tinker,  a  trav¬ 
elling  tinker. 

Columbus — you  know  all  about  him — was  a 
common  sailor. 

Oliver  Cromwell,  who  became  the  uncrowned 
king  of  England,  was  the  son  of  a  brewer. 

Benjamin  Franklin,  whom  we  all  honour,  was 
a  printer. 

John  Howard,  the  reformer,  was  born  in  the 
home  of  a  carpenter. 

Samuel  Johnson,  the  wise  man  of  letters,  was 
the  son  of  a  poor  bookseller. 

Martin  Luther  was  a  miner’s  son  and  played 
music  on  the  street  in  a  real  “German  band.” 

William  Shakespeare  was  the  son  of  a  butcher, 
and  William  Wordsworth  was  a  barber’s  boy. 

They  called  Jesus  the  son  of  a  carpenter,  and 
thought  that  would  explain  Him,  but  it  explained 
nothing.  Jesus  did  begin  life  as  a  carpenter,  but 
He  became  the  Saviour  of  the  World.  There  is 
a  story  in  the  Gospels  that  one  day  a  poor  sick 
woman,  who  did  not  wish  to  be  seen,  followed 
Jesus,  touched  the  hem  of  His  garments  and  was 
made  well  and  strong.  Jesus  knew  what  she  had 
done  and  turning  around  said,  “Somebody  touched 
me.”  She  had  become  strong  and  well  by  touch¬ 
ing  Jesus.  Peter  and  John  and  James  and  Mat- 


BE  SOMEBODY 


73 


thew  and  Mary  Magdalene  all  came  in  touch  with 
Jesus,  and  from  being  “nobodies”  they  became 
“somebodies.”  Jesus  is  the  master  and  maker  of 
men.  To  His  early  followers  He  said,  “Come 
after  me,  and  I  will  make  you  to  become” — what? 

When  He  first  met  Simon  He  said,  “Thou  art 
Simon;  thou  shalt  be  called  Peter.”  The  word 
Peter  means  “rock,”  and  Peter  did  become  a  rock¬ 
like  man,  a  strong,  courageous  follower  of  Jesus. 
Everything  depends  on  the  end.  The  important 
thing  about  anything  is  the  end.  We  want  to 
know  what  a  child  or  a  man  will  “become”  be¬ 
fore  we  pass  judgment.  The  rough  unpolished 
stone  may  become  a  beautiful  diamond.  A  few 
notes  may  become  a  sweet  song.  A  humble  cot¬ 
tage  may  become  a  happy  and  radiant  home. 
When  Jesus  was  a  carpenter  He  made  good  yokes 
for  the  oxen  and  built  good  houses  and  as  Saviour 
He  makes  good  boys  and  girls,  good  men  and 
women.  Let  this  then  be  our  prayer: 

“Make  me 

What  I  ought  to  be.” 


XX 

THE  LACE  AND  THE  SHOE 


“Mint,  dill,  and  cummin — Matt.  23  :  23 

JESUS  did  not  always  speak  sweet  words. 
Sometimes  His  words  had  a  sting  in  them. 
Seven  times  in  one  chapter  in  the  Gospels 
He  said  “Woe  to  you,”  and  He  was  speaking  to 
the  leaders  of  the  church. 

Let  us  think  of  one  of  these  “woes”  of  Jesus. 
He  was  speaking  to  the  priests  and  scribes  and 
Pharisees  and  He  told  them  they  were  not  a  bit 
religious  because  they  were  putting  little  trifles 
in  the  place  of  important  things.  They  were  re¬ 
quired  by  their  law  to  give  God  a  tenth  of  all 
they  owned,  and  they  were  careful  to  do  so.  They 
not  only  gave  God  a  tenth  of  all  their  cattle,  prop¬ 
erty,  and  grain,  but  they  gave  Him  also  a  tenth 
of  their  “mint,  dill,  and  cummin.”  You  know 
what  mint  is.  Sometimes  we  call  it  “spearmint,” 
and  sometimes  “peppermint,”  and  sometimes  just 
“mint.”  Well,  mint  and  dill  and  cummin  are 
little  herbs,  used  for  flavouring  vegetables  or 
chewing  gum  and  for  medicine  and  these  people 
were  so  anxious  about  these  three  tiny  things  and 
were  forgetful  of  the  three  big  things  called 
“judgment,  mercy  and  faith.”  They  were  will- 

74 


THE  LACE  AND  THE  SHOE 


75 


ing  to  give  God  a  tenth  of  everything  but  were 
unwilling  to  be  true,  to  be  kind,  and  to  be  gentle 
and  loving  to  others.  They  were  interested  in 
little  things.  They  forgot  about  the  big  things. 

The  other  day  I  took  my  rod  and  reel  and  went 
off  to  hunt  for  some  speckled  trout  away  up  in 
the  hills  of  Pennsylvania.  Were  you  ever  there? 
It  is  a  wonderful  place.  The  great  hills  rise  al¬ 
most  to  the  sky,  and  the  little  streams  rush  down 
the  valleys  in  the  springtime  and  there  the  most 
beautiful  fish  in  the  world  play  hide  and  seek  with 
each  other  and  with  fishermen  like  myself.  My 
brother  and  I  had  gone  up  to  Kities  to  fish  in 
Parker’s  Run.  We  walked  away  up  the  valley 
about  three  miles,  and  there  took  off  our  shoes, 
and  hid  them  under  a  log,  and  put  on  high  rubber 
boots  and  then  waded  farther  up  the  stream,  per¬ 
haps  three  miles  more. 

When  we  came  back  with  the  trout  we  were 
very  tired  and  sat  down  on  the  log  to  change 
our  big  rubber  boots  for  our  more  comfortable 
shoes.  When  we  looked  under  the  log  there  were 
only  three  shoes.  One  of  mine  was  gone.  It 
was  a  very  lonely  place,  and  there  were  no  bur¬ 
glars  or  bandits  around.  We  looked  for  the  miss¬ 
ing  shoe  and  found  it  some  distance  away.  Some 
little  animal,  perhaps  a  porcupine,  or  groundhog 
or  beaver,  had  found  it  and  was  carrying  it  off. 
It  had  scratched  it  a  little  and  chewed  the  edges 
of  the  leather.  The  shoe  was  all  right,  but  the 
interesting  thing  was  that  the  lace  was  gone — 
gone  completely.  Either  with  its  sharp  tees,  or 


76  THE  LACE  AND  THE  SHOE 

with  its  sharper  teeth,  the  sly  little  thief  had 
unloosed  the  lace,  hole  by  hole,  and  no  trace  of 
it  was  left.  I  have  often  wondered  what  it 
wanted  with  the  lace.  Perhaps  it  wanted  to 
make  a  swing,  or  hammock  out  of  it,  or  to  use 
it  to  hang  one  of  the  other  little  animals  that 
stole  things  from  its  nest  in  the  ground.  Any¬ 
way  it  took  the  lace  and  left  the  shoe.  That’s 
what  these  cold-hearted  dry-as-dust  priests  were 
doing,  too.  They  took  the  little  thing  and  left 
the  important  thing  and  that  is  just  like  taking 
the  lace  and  leaving  the  shoe.  We  often  do  the 
same  thing. 

When  we  go  to  church,  and  listen  to  the  word 
of  God  and  the  music,  and  the  sermon  and  come 
away  and  talk  about  the  soprano’s  hat  or  the  min¬ 
ister’s  hands  or  the  colour  of  the  pipes  of  the 
organ,  we  are  taking  the  lace  and  leaving  the  shoe. 
One  Sunday  a  little  lad  said  to  me,  “Father,  that 
was  a  good  sermon.”  I  said,  “Did  you  like  it?” 
“Yes,”  he  said,  “but  did  you  ever  count  the  num¬ 
ber  of  pipes  in  the  organ?”  He  had  got  hold  of 
the  lace  that  time  for  sure,  but  then  he  was  only  a 
little  fellow,  and  what  can  very  little  boys  do  in 
church  when  the  sermon  is  long  and  prosy  but 
count  the  pipes  in  the  organ  or  the  buttons  on  the 
cushion  in  the  pew? 

When  we  read  the  Bible  and  instead  of  finding 
Jesus  in  it  with  His  message  of  salvation  and 
God’s  wondrous  love  we  are  interested  in  what  is 
the  longest  chapter  and  the  shortest  verse,  and  the 
numbers  in  the  Book  of  Revelation  or  the  wheels 


THE  LACE  AND  THE  SHOE  77 

of  Ezekiel,  we  are  getting  hold  of  the  lace  and 
missing  the  shoe.  Do  you  understand? 

When  at  home  we  are  loved  by  our  parents  and 
everything  is  done  for  us,  and  we  act  mean  and 
peevish,  what  are  we  doing  but  leaving  the  great 
fine  things  and  running  off  with  some  selfish  trifle. 
Jesus  blamed  the  people  to  whom  He  said,  “Woe/’ 
for  their  neglect  of  the  big  things  and  not  so  much 
for  their  interest  in  little  things.  The  best  way 
is  to  take  hold  of  both  the  little  things  and  the 
big  things.  My  little  porcupine  friend  should 
have  been  off  with  both  lace  and  shoe  and  made  his 
nest  for  the  winter  out  of  them. 


“These  (little  things)  things  ye  should  have 
done/’  said  Jesus,  “and  not  have  left  the  (big 
\hings)  other  undone/’ 


XXI 


MAKING  BLACK  WHITE 

“A  clean  thing  out  of  an  unclean” — Job  14:4 

YOU  have  heard  of  the  “Bonny,  bonny  banks 
of  Loch  Lomond."  Loch  Lomond  is  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  lakes  in  Scotland  and 
there  is  a  very  pretty  song  that  is  sung  about  it, 
which  says : 

Oh,  you’ll  take  the  high  road 
And  I’ll  take  the  low  road, 

And  I’ll  be  in  Scotland  before  you, 

But  me  and  my  true  love 
Will  never  meet  again 
On  the  bonny,  bonny  banks 
Of  Loch  Lomond.” 

Well,  near  Loch  Lomond,  on  the  mountainside 
there  is  a  little  lake  called  Fairy  Loch.  You  know 
in  Scotland  loch  means  lake.  If  you  look  into 
the  beautiful  waters  of  this  little  lake  you  will  see 
a  great  many  colours.  It  looks  as  if  the  rainbow 
were  playing  in  the  water.  The  colouring,  of 
course,  comes  from  the  strange  tinted  rocks  and 
sands  at  the  bottom,  but  that  is  not  why  it  is 
called  “Fairy  Loch."  I  will  tell  you  why. 

A  long,  long  time  ago,  when  the  land  was  full 
of  fancies  and  fairies  people  found  that  the  fairies 
played  around  this  little  lake  and  that  many 

78 


MAKING  BLACK  WHITE 


79 


strange  and  wonderful  things  were  found  there. 
They  discovered  that  when  garments  were  left 
by  the  water’s  edge  they  changed  to  a  different 
colour,  and  that  if  they  left  something  to  be  dyed, 
and  a  thread  beside  it  showing  what  colour  was 
wanted  next  morning  the  garment  was  changed 
into  that  very  colour.  One  night  a  shepherd  left 
on  the  edge  of  this  little  mountain  lake  the  fleece 
of  a  black  sheep  and  beside  it  he  put  a  white 
woollen  thread  to  show  that  he  wished  the  black 
dyed  white.  The  fairies  were  at  their  wits’  end. 
They  could  dye  a  white  fleece  black,  or  even  red, 
or  blue,  or  yellow,  but  they  did  not  know  how  to 
change  a  black  fleece  into  a  white  one,  and  in  their 
despair  they  threw  fleece,  thread  and  all  their  col¬ 
ours  into  the  lake  and  from  that  time  on  the  lake 
has  been  called  Fairy  Loch  and  the  water  has  a 
rainbow  appearance.  That  is  a  very  pretty  story 
and  it  helps  us  to  understand  how  difficult  it  is 
to  make  a  black  thing  white.  Job  asked  the  ques¬ 
tion,  “Who  can  bring  a  clean  thing  out  of  an  un¬ 
clean?”  which  is  the  same  as  saying,  “Who  can 
make  a  black  thing  white?” 

Sometimes  we  can  do  it.  Queen  Victoria  once 
went  to  see  a  great  paper  mill,  and  there  she  saw 
dirty  and  filthy  looking  rags.  Then  she  saw  the 
men  take  those  rags  and  wash  and  clean  them  and 
make  them  into  pure  clean  white  paper.  After 
she  got  home  she  received  a  beautiful  box  of  fine 
white  stationery,  all  engraved  with  her  name. 
That  was  making  black  things  white,  and  bringing 
a  clean  thing  out  of  an  unclean. 


8o 


MAKING  BLACK  WHITE 


Sometimes  nature  can  do  it.  You  remember 
Hercules,  the  strong  man  of  Greece,  turned  the 
waters  of  the  rivers  Alpheus  and  Peneus  into  the 
foul  and  dirty  stables  of  Augeas,  king  of  Elis,  and 
made  them  pure  and  clean  and  fresh  in  a  single 
day.  But  sometimes  neither  man  nor  nature  can 
bring  a  clean  thing  out  of  an  unclean  or  make 
black  white.  Who  can  make  a  black  heart  white  ? 
Who  can  make  unclean  thoughts  clean?  Who 
can  change  dark  desires  into  pure  Christlike  pur¬ 
poses?  Only  God  can.  God  can  change  black 
into  white  and  so  we  pray : 

“Create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  O  God.” 

Only  God  can  cleanse  us  and  make  our  hearts 
white  and  pure.  He  tells  us  that  though  our  sins 
be  as  scarlet  they  shall  be  white  as  snow,  though 
they  be  red  like  crimson  they  shall  be  as  wool. 
When  those  who  had  been  redeemed  were  seen 
the  question  was  asked,  “These  that  are  arrayed  in 
white  robes,  who  are  they  and  whence  came 
they?”  and  the  answer  was  given: 

“These  are  they  that  come  out  of  the  preat  tribulation, 
and  they  washed  their  robes,  and  made  them  white  in  the 
blood  of  the  Lamb.” 

God  can  do  what  men  and  nature  and  all  the 
fairies  in  the  world  cannot  do.  He  can  make  a 
black  thing  white  and  can  bring  a  clean  thing  out 
of  an  unclean. 


XXII 


A  FRIENDLY  WORLD 

“Ye  are  my  friends — John  15:14 

WHAT  a  friendly  world  this  is !  Some¬ 
times  we  think  it  is  a  hard,  cruel,  selfish 
world,  but  it  is  not.  It  is  a  friendly 
world,  full  of  friendly  folk,  who  are  looking 
around  for  love  and  friendship  and  happiness. 

The  world  is  just  like  a  mirror.  It  reflects  our 
moods.  We  ourselves  make  the  image  that  we 
see  in  the  glass.  There  is  a  little  lake  I  know, 
lying  in  the  woods  far  up  in  the  Canadian  wilder¬ 
ness,  and  there  you  hear  the  echo  of  every  noise 
you  make.  If  you  are  rowing  a  boat,  you  think 
you  hear  some  one  else  keeping  stroke  with  you. 
If  you  sing,  you  hear  some  one  else  singing.  If 
you  shout  and  scold  the  fish  that  has  gotten  away 
from  you,  some  one  else  scolds  and  talks  loud. 
That  is  just  the  way  with  the  world.  We  live  in 
a  sort  of  echo-world  and  as  we  speak  and  think 
and  act,  so  we  are  answered  back. 

One  very  hot  summer  day  I  was  in  the  city 
of  Cleveland.  It  was  so  hot  that  people  were 
cross  and  I  noticed  a  sign  at  the  hotel  desk  which 
read,  “Keep  your  temper,  no  one  here  wants  it.” 
It  was  a  wise  word  to  tired  and  irritable  travellers. 

The  city  was  filled  with  delegates  from  all  over 

81 


82 


A  FRIENDLY  WORLD 


the  country,  who  were  attending  a  convention, 
and  the  streets  were  thronged. 

In  that  hot  and  hurried  city  I  came  on  three 
friendly  things.  The  first  was  a  little  kitten, 
asleep  behind  the  window  of  a  barber  shop.  It 
was  a  little  grey  kitten,  with  little  spots  of  white 
on  each  foot,  on  its  nose  and  at  the  end  of  its 
tail.  It  was  lying  in  the  sun,  asleep  with  its 
head  resting  on  one  of  its  front  feet,  just  like  a 
little  child  lying  asleep  with  its  arm  under  its 
head,  and  its  hand  over  its  eyes.  It  was  very 
pretty  and  a  lot  of  people  gathered  in  front  of 
the  window  and  smiled  and  talked  together  about 
the  little  kitten  with  its  head  pillowed  on  its  arm, 
as  it  were.  I  walked  up  to  the  public  square  and 
saw  a  young  woman  standing  in  the  midst  of 
about  a  hundred  pigeons.  They  were  perched  on 
her  head,  her  shoulders,  and  were  eating  some 
grain  out  of  her  hands  and  from  the  ground  near 
by.  She  had  come  there  to  feed  them  because 
she  loved  them  and  they  were  unafraid.  Then, 
best  of  all,  I  came  upon  a  fine  “black  beauty”  po¬ 
lice  horse.  There  was  no  policeman  to  be  seen, 
so  there  was  nothing  to  fear.  The  horse  was 
standing  with  his  front  feet  away  up  on  the  side¬ 
walk,  as  if  looking  in  on  the  turtles  and  alligators 
playing  in  the  city  fountain.  But  that  was  not 
what  he  was  doing.  I  soon  found  that  out.  He 
was  a  friendly  horse  and  wanted  to  talk  to  the 
folks  as  they  passed.  Old  ladies  came  and  patted 
his  nose.  Old  men  came  and  scratched  his  fore¬ 
head.  He  seemed  to  like  that.  Little  children 


A  FRIENDLY  WORLD 


83 

came  and  looked  into  his  big  open  eyes.  Girls 
came  and  pulled  his  ears,  and  a  big  boy  after  put¬ 
ting  his  arm  around  his  neck  and  whispering  some¬ 
thing  in  his  ear  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and 
pulled  out  a  beautiful  red  apple  and  Mr.  Black 
Beauty  said  “Thank  you”  and  in  two  bites  the 
apple  was  gone. 

Yes,  this  is  a  friendly  world.  But  it  i3  our 
own  friendliness  that  makes  it  friendly.  We  get 
just  what  we  give.  Jesus  came  to  make  the  world 
a  friendly  place.  He  spoke  of  the  lilies  of  the 
field,  and  the  birds  of  the  air.  He  took  the  little 
children  on  His  knee  and  was  kind  to  all,  to  the 
poor,  the  blind,  the  sick,  the  sinful.  To  be  like 
Jesus,  we  too  must  live  the  friendly  life.  And  the 
laws  of  the  friendly  life  are  given  in  these  simple 
but  great  words  of  Jesus: 

‘'Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit: 

“Blessed  are  they  that  mourn : 

“Blessed  are  the  meek : 

“Blessed  are  they  that  hunger  and  thirst  after  right¬ 
eousness. 

“Blessed  are  the  merciful : 

“Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart : 

“Blessed  are  the  peacemakers.” 

These  are  the  laws  of  the  friendly  life. 


XXIII 


FOR  SALE 

“Why  was  not  this  sold?” — John  12:5 

JUDAS  believed  everything  in  the  world  was 
for  sale.  Jesus  had  come  to  the  home  of 
Mary  of  Bethany  and  it  was  only  six  days 
before  the  day  of  the  Cross,  and  Mary  wished  to 
do  something  to  show  her  love  for  her  Master. 
In  our  day  we  send  flowers  and  fruit,  but  in  those 
days  they  gave  beautiful  fragrant  perfumes. 
Mary  had  bought  the  choicest  perfume  money 
could  buy — a  whole  pound  of  it — and  had  bathed 
her  Lord’s  weary  feet  with  it.  It  was  very  fra¬ 
grant  and  the  whole  house  was  filled  with  the 
sweetness  of  the  odour  of  it.  Judas  was  shocked. 
He  did  not  care  about  beauty  or  fragrance  or 
love.  All  he  thought  of  was  money,  money, 
money.  So  he  said,  “Why  was  not  this  ointment 
sold  for  300  shillings  and  given  to  the  poor?” 
and  then  John,  who  tells  the  story  adds,  “Now  this 
he  said  not  because  he  cared  for  the  poor;  but 
because  he  was  a  thief  and  having  the  bag  took 
away  what  was  put  therein.”  Judas  thought 
everything  was  for  sale,  and  at  the  end  he  even 
sold  Jesus  for  thirty  pieces  of  silver. 

Passing  along  the  highway  from  Cleveland  to 
Buffalo  not  long  ago  it  looked  as  if  everything 
was  for  sale.  In  towns,  out  in  the  country,  in 

84 


FOR  SALE 


85 

front  of  farms,  houses,  stores,  shops,  one  saw  the 
sign  “For  Sale.”  Everything  seemed  to  be  for 
sale : 


“Honey  for  Sale” 

“Eggs  for  Sale.” 

“Chickens  for  Sale.” 

“Little  Pigs  for  Sale.” 
“Cherries  for  Sale.” 
“Strawberries  for  Sale.” 
“New  Peas  for  Sale.” 

“This  House  for  Sale.” 
“Gasoline  for  Sale.” 

“Trees  for  Sale.” 

“Fresh  Flowers  for  Sale.” 
“Lots  for  Sale.” 


Then  I  came  to  a  railway  crossing  and  lying  be¬ 
side  the  road  was  an  automobile.  It  was  all 
smashed  and  had  burned  until  only  the  frame  was 
left.  I  stopped  and  asked  what  had  happened. 
A  passing  train  had  crashed  into  the  automobile, 
two  children  were  dead,  and  the  father  and  mother 
were  in  the  hospital  and  as  I  journeyed  on  I  met 
the  signs: 


“This  Barn  for  Sale/* 

“Vegetables  for  Sale.” 

“Packed  Lunches  for  Sale.” 

I  seemed  to  see  another  sign  “Life  for  Sale.” 
Of  course,  there  was  no  such  sign,  but  I  just 
seemed  to  see  it.  Once  upon  a  time  they  did  sell 
“lives.”  They  bought  and  sold  little  children  and 
men  and  women  at  so  many  dollars  apiece.  That 
was  in  the  days  of  slavery,  and  that  was  a  dread¬ 
ful  thing  to  do.  Then  I  thought  of  the  two  little 
children  whose  lives  had  been  “sold”  to  the  de- 


86 


FOR  SALE 


mand  for  speed,  and  to  carelessness  on  the  part 
of  those  who  permit  dangerous  crossings  on  great 
public  highways.  Every  such  crossing  ought  to 
have  a  sign  in  red  letters  “Life  for  Sale  Here.” 
Whenever  we  have  dangerous  streets,  dangerous 
water,  dangerous  theatres,  where  life  is  held 
cheap,  there  we  should  have  a  sign  “Life  for  Sale 
Here.” 

Not  very  long  ago  a  teacher  in  a  boys’  school 
asked  each  one  in  the  class  to  write  down  what 
were  the  ten  greatest  of  all  inventions.  One  boy 
handed  in  his  paper  and  said  “I’ve  written  down 
one  that  is  the  greatest  of  all  inventions.  There 
isn’t  anything  can  touch  it.”  When  the  teacher 
opened  the  boy’s  paper  he  found  there  these  ten  in¬ 
ventions  :  steam  engine,  steam  whistle,  sewing 
machine,  telephone,  telegraph,  radio,  airship,  spec¬ 
tacles,  automobile,  compass,  and  last  and  in  big 
letters  “Man — Invented  by  God.”  The  lad  was 
right.  Human  life  is  the  greatest  of  all  things  in 
the  world,  and  everything  ought  to  be  made  safe 
for  little  children,  and  for  fathers  and  mothers, 
so  that  the  world  will  be  a  safe  place  for  them 
to  live  in.  Jesus  spoke  hard  words  about  those 
who  harmed  or  hurt  the  life  of  a  little  child.  And 
you  can  harm  or  hurt  the  mind  and  heart  of  a  little 
child  as  well  as  you  can  harm  his  body.  Jesus 
said : 


“But  whoso  shall  cause  one  of  these  little  ones 
that  believe  on  me  to  stumble,  it  is  profitable  for 
him  that  a  great  millstone  should  be  hanged  about 
his  neck,  and  that  he  should  be  sunk  in  the  depth 
of  the  sea.” 


XXIV 


THE  WORST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD 

“Gashmu  saith  it” — Neh.  6:  6 

IN  the  days  of  Nehemiah  there  was  a  terrible 
gossip  by  the  name  of  Gashmu.  All  we  know 
of  him  is  that  he  was  a  gossip.  He  told 
everything  he  knew,  and  a  lot  of  things  he  did 
not  know.  For  a  gossip  is  a  pedlar,  a  pedlar  of 
news,  old  news  and  new  news,  true  news  and  false 
news,  news  about  every  one  and  news  that  is  told 
with  a  wink  of  the  eye  and  a  shrug  of  the  shoulder. 

I  think  gossip  is  the  worst  thing  in  the  world. 
It  is  bad  enough  for  a  girl  to  gossip  and  perhaps 
it  is  nearly  as  bad  for  a  woman,  but  when  a  man 
or  a  boy  gets  to  be  a  gossip,  he  is  both  a  nuisance 
and  a  knave.  This  man  Gashmu  tried  to  stop 
Nehemiah  from  rebuilding  the  walls  of  Jerusalem 
by  peddling  stories  about  him,  saying  he  was  a 
traitor  and  a  rebel,  and  reporting  to  the  people 
and  to  the  king  that  Nehemiah  instead  of  being  a 
God-fearing,  praying  man  was  selfish  and  proud 
and  wanted  to  be  a  king.  When  Nehemiah  heard 
about  all  of  Gashmu’ s  gossiping  ways  he  sent 
him  a  message  which  was  plain  and  easily  under¬ 
stood.  He  said  to  him,  “There  are  no  such  things 
done  as  thou  sayest  but  thou  feignest  them  out 

&7 


88  WORST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD 


of  thine  own  heart.”  That  is  to  say,  he  made 
the  stories  up  out  of  lies. 

That  is  a  terrible  thing  to  do.  Nothing  will 
destroy  the  peace  of  a  home  or  the  happiness  of 
a  heart  more  quickly  than  mean  stories  that  are 
not  true.  One  of  the  greatest  women  America 
ever  knew  told  her  girls  that  before  they  told  a 
story  about  any  one  they  should  pass  it  through 
three  test  questions : 

Is  it  true? 

Is  it  kind? 

Is  it  necessary? 

No  gossip  would  get  past  any  two  of  these  ques¬ 
tions.  No  gossip  is  ever  kind  or  necessary  and 
much  of  it  is  not  true. 

There  is  an  Italian  tale  to  the  effect  that  a  peas¬ 
ant  once  confessed  to  an  old  and  very  kind  priest 
that  he  had  spread  a  bad  story  about  a  good  man. 
The  priest  said  to  him.  “You  have  done  a  very 
dreadful  thing,  and  you  must  be  punished  for 
what  you  have  done.  This  you  must  do.  Take  a 
sack  of  feathers  and  go  to  every  house  and  yard 
in  the  town  and  drop  one  feather  in  each  yard.  Be 
careful  not  to  miss  a  single  house  or  yard.  When 
you  have  finished  come  back  to  me.”  The  peas¬ 
ant  thought  he  had  gotten  off  with  a  light  punish¬ 
ment  and  quickly  he  went  through  the  village  with 
his  sack  and  in  each  yard  he  dropped  one  tiny 
feather.  Then  he  returned  to  the  priest  and  said, 
“I  have  finished  my  task.”  “No,”  said  the  old 


WORST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD  89 

priest,  “you  have  not  finished.  Your  task  will 
not  be  done  till  you  take  your  sack  and  go  again 
to  every  yard  in  the  village  and  collect  every 
feather  you  have  dropped  and  bring  them  all  here 
to  me.”  The  peasant  was  amazed  and  said,  “I 
cannot  do  that.  I  could  not  do  that  if  I  were  to 
live  forever.  Many  of  them  have  blown  to  the 
ends  of  the  earth.  It  is  impossible.”  “That  is 
true,”  said  the  old  priest,  “so  it  is  with  gossip. 
It  is  easily  dropped  but  words  once  spoken  can 
never  be  gathered  up  again.” 

The  people  who  heard  Jesus  speak  “wondered 
at  the  gracious  words  which  proceeded  out  of  Hia 
mouth.”  Jesus  spoke  gracious  words.  He 
warned  us  about  using  “idle”  words.  He  said: 

“I  say  unto  you,  that  every  idle  word  that  men 
shall  speak,  they  shall  give  account  thereof  in  the 
day  of  judgment.  For  by  thy  words  thou  shalt 
be  justified,  and  by  thy  words  thou  shalt  be  con¬ 
demned.” 


And  remember  that  : 

“If  you  your  lips 
Would  save  from  slips 
Five  things  attend  with  car** 
Of  whom  you  speak, 

To  whom  you  speak. 

And  how,  and  when. 

And  where.” 


XXV 


THE  EASIEST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD 

“Lest  we  drift ” — Heb.  2 :  1 

GUESS  what  is  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world. 
The  easiest  thing  in  the  world  is  to  drift. 
You  do  not  need  to  do  anything.  You 
can  just  let  yourself  go,  and  you  will  be  carried 
along.  If  you  are  in  a  crowd,  you  will  be  pushed 
forward  or  backwards.  If  you  are  out  in  a  boat 
you  will  be  carried  along.  You  do  not  need  to 
work  or  plan  or  pray.  You  can  fold  your  arms 
and  look  up  at  the  stars,  or  down  at  your  toes 
and  you  will  be  swept  along  to — well,  that  de¬ 
pends. 

Let  us  think  about  it. 

There  is  a  good  kind  of  drifting! 

When  Nansen  tried  to  reach  the  far  north  with 
his  ship  he  was  beaten  back  and  back  until  he 
pushed  his  boat  into  the  polar  current  and  the 
swift  flowing  ocean  streams  swept  him  on  and  on, 
without  any  great  effort.  His  work  was  to  keep 
in  the  current.  That  was  a  good  way  to  drift. 
We,  too,  can  guide  our  life  into  the  current  of 
God’s  will  and  be  carried  along  to  our  goal.  That 
was  how  Paul  lived.  The  winds  of  God  filled  his 
sail  and  carried  him  across  the  seas  of  this  life 

into  the  heavenly  harbour.  But  this  way  of  liv- 

90 


EASIEST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD  91 


in g  is  not  usually  called  drifting.  That  is  not 
the  right  use  of  the  word. 

There  is  a  bad  kind  of  drifting. 

Drifting  is  always  bad  when  it  means  careless¬ 
ness  in  the  midst  of  danger.  In  the  fall  of  1918, 
a  great  scow  full  of  cement  was  being  towed  down 
the  Niagara  River.  The  tug  towed  it  down  nearer 
and  nearer  the  Falls  and  then  caught  in  the  swift 
current  it  broke  away  and  shot  like  an  express 
train  towards  the  Falls.  Two  men  were  on  the 
y  scow  and  nothing  could  be  done  for  them,  and 
they  were  helpless.  Every  now  and  then  the  great 
swirling  rapids  heaved  the  great  flat-bottomed 
boat  up  and  down,  swung  it  round  and  round  and 
then  sped  it  on  its  way.  People  along  the  shore 
watched  and  waited  as  the  men  on  the  boat  waved 
in  vain  for  help.  A  few  more  yards  and  they 
would  be  swept  over  the  precipice.  Suddenly  the 
bow  of  the  great  scow  rose  up  and  as  suddenly 
fell,  and  then  stopped.  It  seemed  as  if  a  miracle 
had  happened.  There  in  the  river,  in  the  midst 
of  the  mad  rush  of  waters  the  mighty  thing  stood, 
as  if  it  were  a  rock.  A  line  was  shot  from  the 
land  and  then  a  rope  was  drawn  across  the  rapids, 
and  then  a  stronger  rope,  and  across  it  the  two 
men  were  brought  in  safety  to  the  land.  How 
glad  and  how  amazed  they  were.  They  had  been 
face  to  face  with  death  and  suddenly  life  and 
safety  had  come  to  them. 

The  old  scow  is  still  there,  battling  against  the 
rapids.  In  winter  the  great  ice  floes  beat  upon  it 
but  it  remains  in  the  river  bed,  immovable,  and 


*2  EASIEST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD 


year  by  year  people  wonder  at  it,  and  say  that 
it  rests  upon  a  great  solid  rock.  But  it  is  very 
unsafe.  Some  day  it  will  be  gone.  Some  day 
the  rapids  will  beat  it  to  pieces,  and  like  a  mass 
of  rubbish  it  will  be  swept  over  the  cataract  and 
be  seen  no  more.  People  think  they  are  safe  be¬ 
cause  for  a  few  years  they  are  able  to  withstand 
the  current  and  in  the  face  of  danger  escape,  but 
the  precipice  is  always  in  sight  and  the  sweeping, 
swirling,  struggling  waters  are  never  still. 

The  easiest  thing  in  the  world  is  to  drift.  Sam¬ 
son,  whom  we  call  the  strongest  man  that  ever 
lived,  drifted  into  ease  and  pleasure  and  sin  and 
did  not  know  that  he  was  slipping  from  the  place 
of  safety  until  he  was  caught  in  the  swift  flowing 
rapids  and  carried  down  to  death.  We  read  of 
him  that  “he  wist  not  that  his  strength  had  de¬ 
parted  from  him.” 

Don’t  Drift. 

Don’t  Drift  into  Easy  Ways. 

Don’t  Drift  into  Careless  Ways. 

Don’t  Drift  into  Dangerous  Ways. 

Don’t  Drift  into  Vulgar  Ways. 

Don’t  Drift  into  Selfish  Ways. 

Don’t  Drift  away  from  Home. 

Don’t  Drift  away  from  Church. 

Don’t  Drift  away  from  Prayer. 

Don’t  Drift  away  from  God. 


DON’T  DRIFT! 


XXVI 


DEAD  SPOTS 

“These  are  spots.” — Jude  12, 

IT  would  be  foolish  for  me  to  explain  anything 
to  you  about  the  radio  and  the  wireless  and 
the  marvellous  mystery  of  broadcasting  music 
and  speeches  and  messages  through  the  air.  You 
know  more  about  all  that  than  I  do.  That  is  to 
say,  you  know  more  about  the  wires  and  the  tubes, 
and  the  phones,  and  the  amplifiers  and  all  those 
things,  but  perhaps  there  are  some  things  you  don’t 
know.  Do  you  know  that  there  are  dead  spots  in 
the  air?  “Dead  spots?”  Yes,  “dead  spots.” 
What  are  “dead  spots”?  Well,  dead  spots  are 
just  dead  spots.  That  is  all  I  know  about  them. 
I  thought  the  air  would  carry  the  voice  anywhere, 
over  mountains  and  valleys  and  forests  and  lakes 
and  oceans.  Not  long  ago  I  received  a  letter 
from  a  lighthouse  keeper  out  in  the  Atlantic 
Ocean,  off  the  coast  of  Nova  Scotia  and  it  told 
me  how  every  Sunday  the  people  on  the  little  is¬ 
land  gathered  to  hear  the  Sunday  afternoon  ser¬ 
vice  broadcasted  from  the  Shadyside  Presbyterian 
Church,  and  asked  me  if  our  Choir  would  sing 
“Let  the  Lower  Lights  Be  Burning.”  After  a 
while  a  letter  came  saying  the  message  and  the 

93 


94 


DEAD  SPOTS 


music  came  through  a  storm  over  land  and  sea, 
right  to  the  lighthouse.  That  is  wonderful.  It 
is  strange.  It  is  mysterious. 

But  it  seems  the  air  does  not  carry  the  voice 
everywhere.  There  are  “dead  spots”  in  the  ether, 
or  the  air,  as  we  call  it.  No  one  really  knows 
why  or  how  these  dead  spots  happen.  They  only 
know  they  exist.  W e  are  told  there  is  a  dead  spot 
between  Baltimore  and  Washington,  and  messages 
from  one  city  to  the  other  are  lost.  The  people 
of  Philadelphia  have  trouble  hearing  New  York 
and  Newark,  and  ship  stations  in  Long  Island 
Sound  find  it  difficult  to  keep  in  touch  with  the 
shore  stations  out  on  the  Atlantic  side  of  the 
Island,  only  forty  or  fifty  miles  away,  and  the 
listeners  at  Atlantic  City  find  it  hard  sometimes 
to  pick  up  signals  from  New  York,  and  I  suppose 
there  are  many  other  regions  where  there  are 
dead  spots. 

No  one  has  yet  explained  why  there  are  these 
empty  or  dead  regions.  Something,  however,  in¬ 
terferes  with  the  ether  waves  that  carry  the  voice. 
Some  have  said  that  sand  acts  as  a  shield,  and 
makes  a  dead  spot.  Others  say  that  iron  and 
other  minerals  in  the  earth  deflect  the  messages 
while  others  have  pointed  out  the  influence  of 
high  powered  wires  and  cables,  but  no  one  yet 
really  knows.  Some  time  we  will  find  out  and 
be  able  perhaps  to  overcome  all  such  interferences 
and  dead  spots  between  stations. 

We  are  interested  in  all  these  radio  novelties, 
but  dead  spots  have  always  been  in  the  world. 


DEAD  SPOTS 


95 


Sometimes  there  is  a  dead  spot  in  us,  and  we 
cannot  signal  right  from  one  station  to  another. 
Here  is  a  station  we  call  our  “will.”  It  is  the 
power-house  where  we  do  things,  and  here  is  an¬ 
other  station  called  our  “intellect.”  It  is  the 
power-house  where  things  are  learned  and  thought 
about  and  known,  and  there  is  often  a  dead  spot 
between  our  knowing  and  our  doing.  We  know 
ywhat  is  right  but  we  do  not  do  it.  This  is  what 
Saint  Paul  meant  when  he  said : 


“For  that  which  I  do,  I  know  not :  for  not  what  I  would, 
that  do  I  practise ;  but  what  I  hate,  that  I  do.  But  if 
what  I  would  not,  that  I  do,  I  consent  unto  the  law  that 
it  is  good.  So  now  it  is  no  more  I  that  do  it,  but  sin  which 
dwelleth  in  me.  For  I  know  that  in  me,  that  is,  in  my 
flesh,  dwelleth  no  good  thing :  for  to  will  is  present  with 
me,  but  to  do  that  which  is  good  is  not.  For  the  good 
which  I  would  I  do  not :  but  the  evil  which  I  would  not, 
that  I  practise.” 


Paul  said  the  dead  spot  was  caused  by  sin. 

There  are  many  dead  spots  between  the  station 
I  call  myself  and  the  station  I  call  some  one  else. 
In  the  Book  of  Jude  we  read  about  “dead  spots” 
in  the  feasts  of  those  to  whom  he  was  writing. 
Some  dark  cloud  had  come  between  friends.  Boys 
who  ought  to  be  friends  are  hindered  because  of 
some  dead  spot,  and  a  girl  has,  as  she  says,  “no 
use”  for  some  other  girl,  because  of  something 
she  cannot  explain.  These  dead  spots  between 
boys  and  between  girls  and  between  men,  are 
caused  by  selfishness,  hatred,  envy,  jealousy,  or 
by  some  other  dark  cloud  of  sin.  Only  love  can 
overcome  such  empty  spaces. 


DEAD  SPOTS 


9 6 

“Beloved,  if  God  so  loved  us,  we  also  ought  to  love  one 
another.  No  man  hath  beheld  God  at  any  time:  if  we  love 
one  another,  God  abideth  in  us,  and  His  love  is  perfected 
in  us.” 


Sometimes  there  is  a  dead  spot  between  the  sta¬ 
tion  which  I  call  myself  and  the  station  I  call 
God.  We  find  it  hard  to  speak  with  God,  and  we 
find  it  difficult  to  catch  God’s  signals  to  us.  You 
know  what  I  mean,  for  prayer  is  very  much  like 
“speaking  into  the  air,”  and  when  we  find  it  hard 
to  pray  it  is  as  if  we  had  come  upon  a  dead  spot. 
Dead  spots  are  caused  by  carelessness,  or  neglect, 
or  worldliness,  or  sin,  or  wrong  thoughts  of  oth¬ 
ers.  When  Leonardo  da  Vinci  was  working  on 
his  great  painting  “The  Last  Supper”  it  is  said 
he  painted  the  face  of  a  man  he  hated  as  Judas. 
When  he  came  to  paint  the  face  of  Jesus  he  could 
not  do  it.  He  tried  and  tried  again  and  failed. 
Then  he  remembered  why  and  painting  out  the 
face  of  the  man  he  hated,  and  putting  another 
face  in  its  place  he  was  able  to  see  the  face  of 
Jesus  so  clearly  that  he  painted  him  more  beauti¬ 
fully  than  he  had  dreamed  he  could.  A  wrong 
thought,  a  wrong  feeling,  a  wrong  act,  makes  a 
dead  spot  between  God  and  us.  Now  turn  to 
Isaiah,  the  first  chapter,  verses  fifteen,  sixteen, 
seventeen  and  eighteen,  and  read : 

“And  when  ye  spread  forth  your  hands,  I  will  hide  mine 
eyes  from  you ;  yea,  when  ye  make  many  prayers,  I  will 
not  hear:  your  hands  are  full  of  blood.  Wash  you,  make 
you  clean ;  put  away  the  evil  of  your  doings  from  before 
mine  eyes;  cease  to  do  evil;  learn  to  do  well;  seek  justice, 
relieve  the  oppressed,  judge  the  fatherless,  plead  for  the 
widow.  Come  now,  and  let  us  reason  together,  saith  Je- 


DEAD  SPOTS 


97 


hovah:  though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  be  as 
white  as  snow ;  though  they  be  red  like  crimson,  they 
shall  be  as  wool.” 

When  we  are  right  with  God,  and  with  one  an¬ 
other,  and  right  with  ourselves,  then  the  “dead 
spots”  disappear,  and  we  hear  dearly  the  mes¬ 
sages  we  should  hear. 

Away  up  in  a  lonely  spot  near  North  Bay  in 
Canada,  painted  on  a  big  boulder,  in  large  red 
letters,  I  came  upon  the  words : 

“Get  right  with  God.” 

It  startled  me,  for  I  did  not  expect  to  come  face 
to  face  with  a  sermon  in  such  a  place,  but  that 
is  a  sermon  which  is  always  worth  hearing  and 
worth  preaching,  only  I  would  change  one  word 
Instead  of  saying  “Get  right  with  God”  I  would 
say,  “Keep  right  with  God.” 


Keep  right  with  God. 

Keep  right  with  one  another. 
Keep  right  with  yourself. 


XXVII 


CATS  AND  CLOVER 

“No  man  liveth  to  himself  ” — Rom.  14:  7 

DID  you  know  that  Saint  John  once  led 
Saint  Peter  into  trouble?  This  was  the 
way  it  happened.  When  Jesus  was  ar¬ 
rested  by  the  Roman  soldiers  and  led  away  to 
the  high  priest  Peter  fled  in  fear.  John,  too,  at 
first  kept  at  a  safe  distance  but  later  came  to  the 
palace  of  the  high  priest.  John  was  known  at 
the  high  priest’s  palace  and  he  entered  to  see  what 
would  happen  to  Jesus.  Meanwhile  Peter  came 
out  of  love  and  curiosity  and  stood  outside  the 
door.  Somehow  he  got  word  to  John  that  he 
was  there  and  then  John  went  out  and  spoke  to 
the  maid  at  the  door  who  because  of  her  regard 
for  John  allowed  Peter  to  enter.  You  know  what 
happened  to  Peter  in  the  palace  of  the  high  priest. 
He  was  led  to  deny  that  he  knew  Jesus.  He 
openly  cursed  and  swore  that  he  was  not  one  of 
Jesus’  disciples  and  when  Jesus  looked  at  him  in 
love  and  pity  Peter  fled  from  the  place  in  tears, 
a  broken-hearted  man.  It  was  a  bad  thing  John 
did  for  Peter  when  he  gained  for  him  an  entrance 
to  the  palace  of  the  high  priest.  It  was  Peter’s 
undoing. 

The  fact  is,  we  do  not  act  alone.  Everything 

98 


CATS  AND  CLOVER  99 

we  do  touches  some  one  else.  No  one  lives  to 
himself. 

Did  you  ever  hear  the  story  of  cats  and  clover? 
It  was  a  wise  man  by  the  name  of  Darwin  who 
discovered  that  beautiful  red  and  purple  clover 
had  something  to  do  with  black  and  grey  and  tan 
and  all  sorts  of  colored  cats.  And  this  was  the 
way  he  found  out  this  interesting  secret.  He 
covered  a  hundred  red  and  purple  clover  tops  with 
little  bags  of  muslin  and  when  the  clover  was  ripe 
he  found  these  covered  clover  tops  had  no  seed. 
Then  he  found  the  other  clover  tops  all  had  come 
to  seed,  and  then  he  knew  this  was  because  the 
bumble  bees  which  had  carried  pollen  from  flower 
to  flower  had  fertilised  the  clover  and  that  the 
clover  tops  that  had  been  covered  were  not  fer¬ 
tilised  because  the  bumble  bee  avoided  them.  So 
you  see  clover  depends  on  the  bumble  bee  to 
bring  it  to  seed.  Then  he  found  that  the  little 
baby  children  of  the  bumble  bee  were  nursed  in 
the  ground  in  little  tiny  cradles  and  that  the  field 
mice  hunted  for  them  and  ate  them,  so  that  the 
mice  which  killed  the  bees  thereby  harmed  the 
clover.  But  he  discovered  the  clover  near  the 
village  was  fertilised  because  the  mice  that  de- 
troyed  the  baby  bees  were  caught  by  the  village 
cats  and  so  the  cats  without  knowing  it,  by  killing 
the  mice  that  killed  the  bees,  helped  the  clover 
to  come  to  seed.  It  all  sounds  a  little  like : 

“This  is  the  farmer  sowing  his  corn 
That  kept  the  cock  that  crowed  in  the  morn 
That  waked  the  priest  all  shaven  and  shorn 
That  married  the  man  all  tattered  and  torn 


IOO 


CATS  AND  CLOVER 


That  kissed  the  maiden  all  forlorn 
That  milked  the  cow  with  the  crumpled  horn 
That  tossed  the  dog 
That  worried  the  cat 
That  killed  the  rat 
That  ate  the  malt 

That  lay  in  the  house  that  Jack  built.” 

The  bees  depend  on  the  cats  and  the  clover  de¬ 
pends  on  the  bees,  and  without  knowing  it  they 
help  or  harm  each  other.  The  mice  feed  the 
cats,  and  the  bees  feed  the  clover  and  the  clover 
feeds  the  sheep  and  the  cows,  and  the  sheep  give 
wool  and  lamb  chops  and  the  cows  give  us  milk 
and  beef  broth  and  shoe  leather  and  other  neces¬ 
sary  things. 

What  a  strange  world  it  is.  No  one  lives  to 
himself.  We  depend  on  one  another.  We  either 
help  or  hurt  each  other.  Like  the  ripples  in  the 
river  one  touches  another,  until  the  shore  is 
reached.  Andrew  brought  Peter  to  Jesus  and 
Peter  preached  on  the  day  of  Pentecost  and  led 
three  thousand  to  Jesus.  A  little  boy  gave  his 
lunch  to  Andrew  and  Andrew  gave  it  to  Jesus 
and  with  it  Jesus  fed  more  than  five  thousand. 


XXVIII 


THE  TIDE 

/ 

“But  by  my  spirit” — Zech.  4:6 

WATER  is  very  much  like  boys  and  girls. 

Think  of  the  things  water  does  and  you 
will  see  what  I  mean.  Water  runs. 
Sometimes  it  runs  faster  than  any  boy  can  run. 
Water  sings.  We  are  told  the  river  sings  its 
way  to  the  sea.  Water  is  coloured  by  the  country 
through  which  it  flows.  If  it  runs  through  rocks 
it  is  clear  and  crystal,  but  if  it  drains  low  land  it 
is  brown  and  muddy  and  boys  and  girls  get  to  be 
very  much  like  the  place  where  they  live.  Water 
boils,  and  I  have  seen  both  boys  and  girls,  big 
and  little,  boil  and  sputter  and  talk  wild.  Water 
rises  and  falls,  and  in  some  strange  way  boys 
and  girls  rise  and  fall,  we  scarcely  know  how. 
The  falling  and  rising  of  the  water  in  the  ocean 
is  called  the  tide.  We  say  the  tide  ebbs  and  flows. 
Have  you  ever  seen  the  tide  go  out  and  come  in  ? 
When  the  tide  comes  in  you  can  hear  it  swish  and 
swish  and  then  break  on  the  shore  and  it  covers 
the  rocks  and  the  bushes  and  fills  the  creeks  and 
the  rivers.  When  the  tide  goes  out,  or  ebbs,  as 
we  say,  it  seems  as  if  the  great  ocean  were  draw¬ 
ing  back  from  the  shore,  farther  and  farther, 

101 


102 


THE  TIDE 


until  the  boats  rest  on  the  beach  and  the  great 
shore  line  is  bare. 

What  a  strange  thing  the  tide  is.  We  read  that 
one  of  the  old  wise  men  of  long  ago,  unable  to 
explain  the  reason  for  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the 
tide,  at  last  in  despair  drowned  himself  in  the 
sea.  In  a  sort  of  way  we  know  now  that  it  is  the 
moon  that  makes  the  tide.  The  moon  is  near  the 
earth  and  pulls  the  earth  towards  itself.  It  pulls 
both  the  land  and  the  water,  but  the  water  pulls 
easier  and  so  the  water  ebbs  and  flows  with  the 
attractive  power  of  the  moon.  Sometimes  the 
water  rises  a  few  feet  and  sometimes,  as  in  the 
Bay  of  Fundy,  it  rises  fifty  feet. 

There  is  nothing  in  our  world  so  powerful,  so 
strong,  as  the  tide.  It  pushes  back  the  shore  line 
and  washes  away  cliffs  and  covers  islands.  Years 
ago  when  they  were  building  a  great  bridge  over 
the  East  River  in  New  York  they  found  in  the 
bed  of  the  river  where  they  wished  to  place  one 
of  the  central  piers,  an  old  sunken  ship.  It  was 
buried  in  the  mud  and  would  not  budge.  The 
strongest  tug  was  chained  to  it,  but  it  could  not 
be  moved.  Then  one  of  the  engineers  asked  the 
tide  to  help  him.  He  took  a  great  flat  bottomed 
scow  and  when  the  tide  was  out  chained  it  to  the 
old  sunken  ship.  Then  he  sat  down  and  waited. 
He  waited  for  the  tide  to  come  in.  Slowly  the 
water  rose,  inch  by  inch,  and  the  chains  and  cables 
strained  and  groaned  as  the  water  rose.  Inch  by 
inch  the  old  boat  in  the  mud  rose  until  at  last, 
under  the  mighty  pulling  of  the  tide,  it  was  lifted 


THE  TIDE 


103 

out  of  the  mud,  and  then  hauled  out  of  the  way. 
The  tide  had  done  what  man  could  not  do. 

There  are  many  things  we  cannot  do.  We  can¬ 
not  lift  ourselves.  We  cannot  save  ourselves. 
But  God  can.  God’s  power  is  like  the  tide.  When 
Moses  was  caught  as  in  a  trap  he  exclaimed, 
“Stand  still,  and  see  the  salvation  of  God.”  The 
Old  Testament  prophet  told  the  people  of  his  day 
who  were  trying  and  failing  and  trying  again 
and  failing  that  victory  would  come  “not  by 
might,  nor  by  power,  but  by  my  Spirit,  saith  the 
Lord  of  hosts.”  When  we  lay  hold  of  God’s 
love  and  God’s  power,  we  are  lifted  out  of  our 
sin  and  selfishness  into  love  and  life  and  into 
the  liberty  of  the  children  of  God. 


XXIX 


THE  WATER  WHEEL 

“A  well  of  water.” — John  4:  14 

YEARS  ago,  back  in  the  time  of  Queen  Eliza¬ 
beth,  there  lived  in  Spain  a  beautiful 
woman  by  the  name  of  Theresa.  She  is 
known  to-day  as  Saint  Theresa.  She  lived  in  a 
convent,  enclosed  with  high  walls,  and  inside  the 
walls  was  a  garden,  and  Theresa  loved  the  garden 
with  its  flowers  and  trees  and  walks,  but  best  of 
all  she  loved  the  old  well  in  the  garden.  It  was 
an  old  well  and  the  water  was  lifted  from  the 
well  by  means  of  a  wheel,  to  which  were  attached 
earthen  vessels  which  dipped  the  water  and  lifted 
it  up  as  the  wheel  turned. 

Theresa  loved  the  garden  with  its  flowering 
trees,  its  cypresses  and  vines,  and  the  long  deep 
shadows,  but  best  of  all  she  loved  the  old  well. 
It  was  cool  there,  and  the  light  and  shadows  play¬ 
ing  upon  the  surface  of  the  silent  water  reflected 
her  thoughts. 

She  was  not  idle,  for  she  loved  work  too  well, 
and  later  travelled  thousands  of  miles,  and  served 
as  a  missionary  to  the  wild  and  cruel  Moors. 
Meanwhile  she  was  busy  with  her  thoughts,  and 

her  thoughts  were  not  about  the  garden  and  the 

104 


THE  WATER  WHEEL  105 

water  wheel  only.  She  was  thinking  about  God 
and  faith  and  heaven  and  prayer,  but  most  of  all 
she  was  thinking  about  prayer.  Her  soul  she 
said  was  a  garden,  and  it  was  her  task  in  life 
to  have  beautiful  things  growing  there.  But 
things  will  not  grow  in  a  garden  without  water 
1  and  things  will  not  grow  in  the  garden  of  the  heart 
without  prayer. 

And  as  she  thought  she  came  to  know  that  there 
were  four  ways  of  watering  the  garden  and  there 
were  also  four  ways  of  bringing  forth  beauty  in 
the  garden  of  the  soul. 

First,  we  can  draw  water  with  our  own  hands 
out  of  the  deep  well.  In  the  same  way,  we  can 
by  effort,  by  churchgoing,  Bible  reading,  and 
“saying”  prayers,  find  refreshment  for  the  flowers 
and  fruit  of  the  spirit. 

Second,  we  can  draw  water  by  means  of  the 
water  wheel.  This  is  an  easier  and  better  way. 
So  we  may  in  moments  of  quiet  devotion  find 
the  sweet  influence  of  God  working  in  our  hearts. 

Third,  we  can  water  our  garden  by  means  of 
an  overflowing  well  that  of  itself  will  irrigate 
the  soil.  This  was  what  Jesus  promised  when 
He  said,  “The  water  that  I  shall  give  him  shall 
become  in  him  a  well  of  water  springing  up  unto 
eternal  life.”  This  is  a  fountain  within  our  own 
souls  that  overflows  into  all  our  life  and  causes 
the  garden  flowers  of  love  and  sweetness  to  bloom. 

Fourth,  and  best  of  all,  said  Theresa,  the  gar¬ 
den  may  be  watered  by  the  rain  from  heaven. 
Sometimes  God  himself  blesses  us  we  know  not 


106  THE  WATER  WHEEL 

how.  He  comes  and  brings  with  Him  life  and 
light  and  the  beauty  of  His  peace. 

What  a  wonderful  woman  Theresa  was,  and 
how  she  loved  to  talk  and  walk  in  the  garden 
with  God,  and  how  happy  she  was  to  discover 
the  secret  of  her  own  peace  not  in  the  garden  of 
the  convent,  but  in  the  garden  of  her  own  soul. 
There  is  an  old  story  of  a  Scotch  nobleman  who 
was  driven  inside  his  castle  walls  by  the  enemy, 
who  sought  to  starve  him  out.  Months  passed 
and  one  day  a  bunch  of  fine  fish,  fresh  from  the 
sea,  was  hanging  from  the  castle  window.  Then 
the  enemy  knew  that  there  was  a  secret  passage 
from  the  castle  to  the  sea,  and  that  those  within 
had  an  unfailing  source  of  supply.  This  was 
what  Jesus  meant  when  He  said  to  the  Samaritan 
woman  at  Jacob’s  well,  looking  down  into  the 
deep,  dark  well : 

“Every  one  that  drinketh  of  this  water  shall  thirst  again : 
but  whosoever  drinketh  of  the  water  that  I  shall  give  him 
shall  never  thirst ;  but  the  water  that  I  shall  give  him  shall 
become  in  him  a  well  of  water  springing  up  unto  eternal 
life.” 


XXX 


FINDING  THE  WAY 

“The  asses  are  lost.” — i  Sam.  g :  3 

IT  is  wonderful  how  birds  and  animals  find 
their  way.  They  do  not  have  a  compass, 
but  they  pick  their  way  as  if  they  knew  ex¬ 
actly  where  to  go  and  what  to  do.  When  Saul 
was  a  young  man,  before  he  became  king  of  Israel, 
his  father  sent  him  to  find  some  asses  which  had 
strayed  from  the  farm  and  lost  their  way.  Saul 
in  company  with  a  servant  started  out  to  find 
them.  We  are  not  told  how  long  they  were  gone, 
but  we  are  told  they  were  gone  so  long  that  Saul’s 
father  began  to  worry  over  his  son  more  than  he 
had  worried  over  the  lost  asses  and  in  the  end  the 
asses  came  home  themselves,  and  Saul  found  a 
kingdom  instead.  That  is  a  way  with  all  wild 
and  tame  things  of  the  woods  and  the  fields.  They 
know  how  to  find  their  way  home.  Is  not  that 
what  the  nursery  rhyme  says : 

“Little  Bo-peep  has  lost  her  sheep 
And  doesn’t  know  where  to  find  them, 

Let  them  alone,  and  they'll  come  home 
Wagging  their  tails  behind  them.” 

That  wise  man  of  France — Fabre — who  knows 
all  about  birds  and  bees,  once  took  forty  mason 


io8 


FINDING  THE  WAY 


wasps  and  began  marking  them  with  chalk  and 
mucilage  so  he  would  know  them.  It  was  hard 
work  marking  the  wasps  and  before  he  was  done 
twenty  of  them  were  either  hurt  or  had  disap¬ 
peared,  and  he  had  left  twenty  good  and  sound 
mason  wasps  well  marked.  He  took  these  twenty 
wasps  three  miles  from  home  and  had  his  little 
daughter  watch  the  nest  from  which  he  had  taken 
them.  There  was  a  high  wind  blowing  when  he 
let  them  free  three  miles  from  their  home,  but 
they  started  off,  “straight  as  a  bee”  we  say,  and 
in  a  little  while  fifteen  had  arrived  back  in  their 
own  old  home  laden  with  honey.  He  does  not 
say  what  became  of  the  other  five.  I  suppose  they 
found  other  companions  along  the  way  and  an¬ 
other  nest.  It  is  a  wonderful  instinct  for  direction 
which  animals  and  bees  and  birds  have.  There 
is  a  verse  in  the  Bible  which  says : 

“Yea,  the  stork  in  the  heavens  knoweth  her  appointed 
times ;  and  the  turtledove  and  the  swallow  and  the  crane 
observe  the  time  of  their  coming;  but  my  people  know  not 
the  law  of  Jehovah.” 

Why  is  it  that  God’s  people  do  not  know  the 
way  to  God?  Many  folks  get  lost  on  the  way. 
They  fall  into  danger,  run  into  dark  places,  get 
among  bad  companions  and  forget  about  God, 
who  is  their  true  home.  “God  is  our  refuge.” 
Sometimes  birds  in  their  long  flights  get  lost  and 
hundreds  of  them  perish  in  the  cold.  We  do  not 
know  wThat  happens  to  the  birds  when  they  miss 
their  way,  but  we  know  why  boys  and  girls  get 
out  of  the  true  path.  It  is  because  of  sin.  Sin 


FINDING  THE  WAY  109 

disturbs  our  sense  of  direction.  Sin,  as  we  would 
say,  “deflects  the  compass.” 

A  ship  was  once  wrecked  on  the  coast  of  Ire¬ 
land.  No  one  was  to  blame,  for  the  captain  was 
very  careful  and  the  weather  had  been  good.  But 
the  ship  went  down  off  the  rocks  and  after  the 
disaster  a  diver  was  sent  down  to  see  if  the  trouble 
could  be  discovered.  The  diver  brought  up  the 
compass  and  it  was  found  that  it  was  not  true. 
When  it  was  examined  they  found  in  it  a  little 
piece  of  steel,  the  point  of  a  blade  of  a  knife.  The 
day  before  the  wreck  one  of  the  crew,  while 
cleaning  the  compass,  broke  off  the  point  of  the 
blade,  and  it  had  done  all  the  damage.  It  had 
“deflected  the  compass,”  and  the  ship  with  some 
of  its  crew  and  all  of  its  cargo  had  gone  down. 

A  great  man,  whose  name  was  Augustine,  once 
said,  “Thou  hast  made  us  for  thyself,  O  Lord,  and 
our  hearts  are  restless  till  they  rest  in  Thee.”  We 
should  be  able  to  find  our  way  to  God  as  naturally 
as  wasps  find  their  nest  or  the  sheep  their  fold, 
or  the  cattle  their  shelter  and  we  would  if  sin  did 
not  disturb  our  sense  of  direction  and  lead  us  out 
of  the  way.  Let  us  keep  our  hearts  with  all  dili¬ 
gence,  for  out  of  them  are  the  issues  of  life.  Let 
us  be  pure  in  heart,  for  the  pure  in  heart  shall 
see  God. 


XXXI 

AFRAID  OF  THE  ZEAL 


“The  zeal  of  thine  house.” — Ps.  69:9 


THEODORE  ROOSEVELT  was  a  brave 
man.  It  is  hard  to  think  he  was  ever 
afraid  of  anything.  He  was  a  soldier. 
He  was  a  rough  rider.  He  was  a  hunter  of  wild 
beasts  in  Africa.  He  was  an  explorer  and  nearly 
lost  his  life  tracing  the  River  of  Doubt.  But  once 
he  was  afraid.  Once  he  was  so  afraid  that  he  re¬ 
membered  it  all  his  life  and  liked  to  tell  about  it. 

This  is  what  happened.  When  he  was  a  boy  he 
played  in  Madison  Square  in  New  York  City.  It 
was  not  such  a  busy  place  as  it  is  now,  with  its 
automobiles  and  busses  and  street  cars  and  taxis 
and  tall  skyscrapers.  There  were  no  taxis,  no 
autos,  no  busses,  no  skyscrapers  then,  and  he  used 
to  play  hide  and  seek  among  the  trees  and  bushes 
of  the  park  and  around  the  Presbyterian  Church. 
He  was  interested  in  the  Church,  and  one  Sat¬ 
urday  when  it  was  open  and  the  sexton  was  work¬ 
ing  around  and  getting  it  ready  for  Sunday,  Theo¬ 
dore  stood  on  the  sidewalk  and  looked  up  at  the 
towers  and  windows  and  in  through  the  door. 
The  sexton  knew  him  and  said,  “Step  inside  and 
look  around,  lad,”  but  he  drew  away  and  said, 

“No,  thank  you,  but  I  know  what  you’ve  got  in 

izo 


AFRAID  OF  THE  ZEAL 


hi 


there.”  The  sexton  was  amused  and  said,  “What 
do  you  think  I  have  in  there?”  “Oh,  I  know,” 
said  Theodore,  “I  know  what  you  have.”  The 
old  man  looked  at  the  boy  with  a  smile  and  said, 
“There  is  nothing  in  here.  Step  inside  and  look.” 
But  Theodore  would  not  step  inside,  and  as  the 
sexton  came  to  lead  him  into  the  church  Theodore 
turned  and  ran  for  home  three  blocks  away. 

He  told  his  mother  what  had  happened,  for  he 
was  afraid,  and  his  mother  said,  “Why  did  you 
not  go  in  the  church  when  you  were  invited?” 
Theodore  said,  “No,  I  don’t  want  to  go  into  the 
church.  They  have  a  ‘zeal’  in  there,”  and  his  eyes 
opened  wide,  for  he  had  pictures  of  a  dragon,  or 
an  alligator,  or  some  other  dreadful  animal. 
“What  on  earth  do  you  mean?”  said  his  mother, 
and  then  Theodore  told  her  that  when  he  was  at 
that  church  some  Sundays  before  the  minister 
had  read  and  spoken  about  the  “zeal”  in  the  church 
which  would  eat  people,  and  his  mother  remem¬ 
bered  that  the  minister’s  text  that  day  had  been 
“The  zeal  of  thine  house  hath  eaten  me  up.”  And 
then  his  mother  had  a  good  laugh. 

Lest  you  do  not  know  let  me  tell  you  what  that 
word  “zeal”  means.  Jesus  when  he  went  up  to 
Jerusalem  found  the  temple  of  God  filled  with 
oxen,  sheep,  and  doves,  and  men  who  bought  and 
sold.  Jesus  was  angry,  for  God’s  house  is  not  a 
marketplace,  but  a  place  of  prayer,  so  He  took  a 
piece  of  rope  and  drove  the  men  and  the  animals 
headlong  from  the  Temple,  and  the  disciples  as 
they  watched  Jesus  remembered  the  words  of  one 


112 


AFRAID  OF  THE  ZEAL 


of  the  Psalms,  “The  zeal  of  thine  house  hath  eaten 
me  up,”  which  means  that  love  for  God’s  house 
had  mastered  him,  love  for  God’s  house  had  cap¬ 
tured  his  heart. 

In  a  certain  way,  too,  love  for  God’s  house  pos¬ 
sessed  Theodore  Roosevelt  and  once  he  wrote 
down  the  reasons  why  everybody,  big  and  little, 
rich  and  poor,  old  and  young,  should  go  to  church, 
and  these  are  his  nine  reasons : 

1.  In  this  actual  world,  a  churchless  com¬ 
munity,  a  community  where  men  have  abandoned 
and  scoffed  at  or  ignored  their  religious  needs,  is 
a  community  on  the  rapid  down  grade. 

2.  Church  work  and  church  attendance  mean 
the  cultivation  of  the  habit  of  feeling  some  respon¬ 
sibility  for  others. 

3.  There  are  enough  holidays  for  most  of  us. 
Sundays  differ  from  other  holidays  in  the  fact 
that  there  are  fifty-two  of  them  every  year — 
therefore  on  Sundays  go  to  church. 

4.  Yes,  I  know  all  the  excuses.  I  know  that 
one  can  worship  the  Creator  in  a  grove  of  trees, 
or  by  a  running  brook,  or  in  a  man’s  own  house, 
just  as  well  as  in  a  church.  But  I  also  know,  as 
a  matter  of  cold  fact,  the  average  man  does  not 
thus  worship. 

5.  He  may  not  hear  a  good  sermon  at  church. 
He  will  hear  a  sermon  by  a  good  man  who,  with 
his  good  wife,  is  engaged  all  the  week  in  making 
hard  lives  a  little  easier. 

6.  He  will  listen  to  and  take  part  in  reading 


AFRAID  OF  THE  ZEAL 


ii3 

some  beautiful  passages  from  the  Bible.  And 
if  he  is  not  familiar  with  the  Bible,  he  has  suf¬ 
fered  a  loss. 

7.  He  will  take  part  in  singing  some  good 
hymns. 

8.  He  will  meet  and  nod  or  speak  to  good,  quiet 
neighbours.  He  will  come  away  feeling  a  little 
more  charitable  toward  all  the  world,  even  to¬ 
ward  those  excessively  foolish  young  men  who 
regard  churchgoing  as  a  soft  performance. 

9.  I  advocate  a  man’s  joining  in  church  work 
for  the  sake  of  showing  his  faith  by  his  work. 

It  is  a  good  thing  to  have  a  burning  love  for 
God’s  house  and  I  hope  you  will  not  be  afraid  of 
zeal,  but  that  you  will  be  afraid  of  carelessness, 
and  lack  of  interest  in  the  things  and  house  of 
God. 


XXXII 


THE  HIDDEN  SPRING 

“A  well  of  water.” — Gen.  21 : 19 

IN  the  early  chapters  of  the  Bible  there  is  a 
story  of  a  little  boy  who  with  his  mother 
was  driven  from  his  home.  Together  they 
wandered  in  the  wilderness,  without  friends  or 
home,  and  sometimes  were  without  food  or  water. 
There  seemed  to  be  no  hope,  and  the  mother  put 
the  little  boy  under  a  shrub  and  went  off  so  she 
would  not  see  him  die.  But  God  heard  the  little 
lad’s  cry  and  opened  his  mother’s  eyes  and  be¬ 
hold,  near  by  she  saw  a  well  of  water,  so  they  were 
refreshed  and  went  on  their  way  to  a  new  home 
where  the  boy  grew  into  a  great  man.  His  name 
was  Ishmael,  and  his  mother’s  name  was  Hagar. 

Springs  of  water  are  often  hidden.  I  re¬ 
member  fishing  in  one  of  the  beautiful  inland  lakes 
of  northern  Ontario,  a  few  miles  from  the  Mag- 
netawan  River.  It  was  a  shallow  lake,  and  the 
shore  was  full  of  long  weeds  and  water  lilies  and 
the  water  was  dark  and  unpleasant  to  drink.  My 
brother  wTho  was  with  me,  and  who  had  been  there 
before,  said  he  knew  where  there  was  a  spring. 
So  we  lifted  anchor  and  started  for  the  tree  he 
pointed  out  on  the  farther  shore.  When  we 

1 14 


THE  HIDDEN  SPRING  115 

landed  he  said,  “It  ought  to  be  here,”  but  no  spring 
could  be  seen.  We  wandered  around  trying  to 
discover  a  tiny  stream  of  spring  water.  Then 
we  listened,  but  no  sign  or  sound  of  running  water 
could  we  find.  At  last  we  came  to  a  little  opening 
in  the  weeds,  and  my  brother  said,  “It  must  be 
here.”  But  the  place  looked  very  uninviting.  The 
ground  was  covered  with  rotted  leaves  and  dark 
green  moss  and  the  water  of  the  lake  made  a 
green  line  along  the  edge.  But  we  stooped  down 
and  began  with  our  hands  to  scrape  away  the 
leaves  and  moss  and  weeds.  Then  something  hap¬ 
pened.  When  we  cleared  away  the  leaves  and 
the  moss  and  the  broken  twigs,  and  gouged  out  a 
hole  in  the  clean,  cool  sand  underneath,  a  little 
tiny  stream  of  cool,  clear  water  began  to  trickle 
into  it,  and  it  was  soon  filled  with  the  purest  of 
cold  spring  water.  No  one  could  mistake  it.  It 
was  crystal  clear  and  as  cold  as  if  it  came  out  of 
the  rock  in  winter.  There  it  flowed  under  the 
leaves  and  the  rubbish,  and  lost  itself  in  the  waters 
of  the  lake. 

It  is  a  parable. 

The  sweetest  springs  are  often  found  in  un¬ 
likely  places. 

In  the  dark  days  of  sorrow  we  often  find  a 
spring  of  joy. 

In  the  hard  days  when  work  must  be  done  and 
lessons  learned  we  find  in  action  a  spring  of  re¬ 
freshment. 

On  the  long,  long  road  we  find  a  spring  where 
we  may  rest  and  find  strength. 


ii 6  THE  HIDDEN  SPRING 

God  often  opens  our  eyes  and  we  see  “a  well 
of  water”  in  the  desert. 

We  find  goodness,  and  joy,  and  blessing  where 
we  least  expect  it.  This  is  what  God  promises  to 
do.  He  promises  that  “in  the  wilderness  shall 
waters  break  out,  and  streams  in  the  desert.  And 
the  glowing  sand  shall  become  a  pool  and  the 
thirsty  ground  springs  of  water.” 

Watch  for  the  Hidden  Spring. 

It  is  sure  to  be  near  by. 

It  is  for  you  to  find. 


x  XXXIII 

AN  EASTER  STORY-SERMON 

“He  is  risen/*— Matt.  28:6 

E*  ASTER  always  comes  with  Spring.  This 
is  very  interesting  for  Spring  is  just  like 
a  resurrection.  After  the  dark  cold  win¬ 
ter,  when  trees  and  flowers  all  seem  to  die,  then 
Spring  comes  and  the  birds  return,  the  trees  re¬ 
vive,  flowers  bloom  and  life  everywhere  reveals 
itself. 

Spring  is  a  time  of  joy,  and  so  is  Easter.  It 
is  a  time  for  happy  hearts  and  cheery  songs.  The 
Easter  chimes  ring  and  call  all  little  children  to 
rejoice  because  Christ  the  Lord  is  risen.  Spring, 
too,  is  a  time  to  watch  and  work.  Spring  tells 
us  that  the  time  for  sowing  has  come.  If  we  miss 
the  seed  time,  there  will  be  no  harvest.  In  the 
same  way  Easter  tells  us  that  this  life  is  the  seed 
time  and  that  the  harvest  will  come  by  and  by. 
The  Bible  tells  us  that  he  that  soweth  to  the  flesh 
shall  reap  death,  but  he  that  soweth  to  the  spirit 
shall  reap  life — life  everlasting. 

Easter  then  speaks  to  us  of  seed  sowing,  of  op¬ 
portunity,  of  responsibility,  of  the  need  to  take 
care,  and  to  live  as  expecting  the  coming  harvest. 
Let  me  show  you  what  that  means. 

One  of  the  first  and  greatest  of  modern  Chris¬ 
tian  missionaries  was  Robert  Moffat.  He  went 

11 7 


ii8  AN  EASTER  STORY-SERMON 


to  Africa  and  preached  the  Gospel  to  black  slaves 
and  savages  of  that  great  continent.  Once  when 
he  was  far  from  his  mission  station  he  visited  an 
old  and  famous  chief,  Macaba  by  name.  He  was 
a  great  chief,  a  mighty  warrior.  He  had  fought 
many  battles  and  had  killed  thousands  of  men, 
women,  and  little  innocent  children.  His  friends 
tried  to  keep  the  missionary  from  visiting  the 
old  savage  chief,  but  Dr.  Moffat  was  fearless  and 
knew  that  God  would  keep  him  and  help  him 
preach  the  Gospel  even  to  the  chief. 

Macaba  received  him  kindly  and  placed  him 
in  the  centre  of  fifty  or  sixty  of  his  head-men  and 
warriors,  and  waited  for  the  missionary  to  speak. 
Dr.  Moffat  told  them  the  simple  story  of  Jesus, 
and  when  he  came  to  the  Easter  story  the  old 
chief  stood  up,  all  excited,  and  said : 

“What,  what  are  those  words  about  the  dead? 
The  dead  arise,  you  say?” 

“Yes,”  said  Dr.  Moffat,  “Jesus  rose  and  all  the 
dead  shall  rise.” 

“Will  my  father  rise?” 

“Yes,”  said  the  missionary. 

“Will  all  those  who  have  been  eaten  by  lions, 
tigers,  crocodiles,  rise?” 

“Yes,”  said  Dr.  Moffat.  “They  shall  rise  and 
come  to  judgment.” 

“Will  all  those  killed  in  battle  rise?” 

“Yes,  and  they  will  receive  justice.” 

Turning  to  his  warriors  Macaba  said,  “Did  you 
ever  hear  9uch  words?” 

“Never,”  they  said. 


AN  EASTER  STORY-SERMON  119 


Then  the  old  chief,  frightened,  put  his  hand 
on  the  missionary’s  shoulder,  and  said :  “Father, 
I  love  you  much.  Your  visit  has  made  my  heart 
white  like  milk.  The  words  of  your  mouth  are 
sweet  like  honey.  But  these  words  of  a  resur¬ 
rection  must  not  be  spoken  again.  I  do  not  wish 
to  hear  any  more  about  the  dead  rising.  The 
dead  cannot  rise.  They  shall  not  rise.” 

“Tell  me,  my  friend,”  said  the  missionary,  “why 
I  must  not  speak  of  the  resurrection.” 

Lifting  up  his  arm,  which  had  been  strong  in 
battle,  and  shaking  his  hand,  as  if  grasping  a 
spear,  the  chief  said,  “I  have  slain  thousands,  and 
they  must  not  rise  again.” 

The  old  chief  had  sowed  the  seeds  of  murder 
and  hate  and  war,  and  was  afraid  of  the  harvest. 

Yes,  Easter  tells  us  that  our  life  is  like  Spring. 
It  is  a  time  for  sowing  seed.  Let  us  see  that  we 
sow  good  seed. 

Let  us  sow  love,  not  hate. 


XXXIV 


THE  RAVENS 

'7  have  commanded  the  ravens” — i  Kings  17:4 

SOMETIMES  we  use  the  birds  for  messen¬ 
gers.  One  Sunday  morning  when  I  was 
speaking  to  the  children  about  “Home”  I 
let  two  carrier  pigeons  out  of  the  church  window 
with  messages,  and  they  went  straight  home  over 
the  hills  of  Pittsburgh,  and  over  the  Allegheny 
River  to  their  own  home. 

Sometimes  God  uses  birds  for  messengers.  Do 
you  remember  Elijah?  He  was  one  of  the  great 
heroes  of  the  Bible  times.  He  belonged  to  God’s 
out  of  doors,  and  was  afraid  of  no  man,  not  even 
the  king.  The  king  was  wicked  and  so  was  the 
queen,  and  God  sent  Elijah  to  them  with  a  mes¬ 
sage.  It  was  a  strange  message.  Elijah  told 
Ahab,  the  king,  and  Jezebel,  the  queen,  that  be¬ 
cause  of  their  wickedness  there  would  be  no  rain 
for  three  and  a  half  years.  That  was  a  terrible 
thing,  for  it  meant  famine  and  distress,  and  know¬ 
ing  this  Elijah  fled  and  though  the  king  tried  to 
find  him  and  had  his  armies  search  for  him  all 
over  the  country  he  could  not  be  found. 

And  this  was  the  reason.  God  chose  his  hid¬ 
ing  place.  It  was  in  a  wild  place,  near  the  Jor¬ 
dan,  beside  a  little  brook  called  Cherith,  and  God 

120 


THE  RAVENS 


121 


commanded  the  ravens  to  feed  him,  and  so  “the 
ravens  brought  him  bread  and  flesh  in  the  morn¬ 
ing,  and  bread  and  flesh  in  the  evening;  and  he 
drank  of  the  brook.”  I  have  often  wondered  why 
God  asked  the  ravens  to  serve  Elijah.  Why  did 
he  not  ask  the  blue  jay  or  the  red  bird,  or  the 
crane,  or  the  swift  flying  swallow?  The  raven  is 
such  a  strange  old  bird.  It  has  a  harsh  voice,  like 
a  man,  and  is  sort  of  savage  and  boisterous.  But 
I  think  I  know  why  God  used  the  raven  and  not 
the  crane  or  the  sparrow.  The  raven  is  a  wise 
bird.  It  is  the  wisest  of  all  the  birds.  How  do  I 
know?  Well,  I  know  just  because  I  know.  It  is 
wise  because  it  always  gets  married,  and  it  takes 
a  wife  for  life.  It  keeps  up  the  same  home,  the 
same  nest  year  after  year,  and  so  lives  longer  than 
almost  any  other  bird.  Then  it  is  wise  in  the  ways 
of  other  birds.  It  can  mimic  the  songs  of  other 
birds  and  the  cries  of  animals.  If  you  could  listen 
to  it  in  the  evening  you  would  hear  it,  sort  of 
singing  itself  to  sleep,  crooning  over  the  events 
of  the  day,  talking  about  everything  it  has  seen 
or  heard  and  you  would  hear  it  giving  a  bit  of 
the  barking  of  a  dog,  and  the  bleating  of  a  sheep, 
and  the  lowing  of  a  cow.  Yes,  the  raven  is  a 
wise  old  bird,  and  knows  how  to  keep  a  secret 
and  to  keep  guard  over  its  task.  That  is  why  God 
used  it.  He  needed  wisdom  and  shrewdness  and 
sense  and  so  Ahab  and  Jezebel  never  found  out 
where  Elijah  was  in  hiding  and  Elijah  never 
wanted  for  bread.  God  needs  wise  messengers. 
When  He  sent  out  His  disciples  as  missionaries 


122 


THE  RAVENS 


He  said,  "Behold,  I  send  you  forth  as  sheep  in 
the  midst  of  wolves:  be  ye  therefore  wise  as  ser¬ 
pents,  and  harmless  as  doves/’ 

God  needs  wise  fathers  and  wise  mothers  and 
wise  boys  and  wise  girls.  Hugh  Price  Hughes 
was  one  of  the  greatest  of  Gospel  preachers.  He 
was  studying  to  be  a  lawyer  when  God  called  him 
to  be  a  minister.  So  he  wrote  his  father  a  very 
short  letter.  This  was  what  he  wrote :  "My  dear 
father,  I  think  I  ought  to  become  a  Christian  min¬ 
ister.  Your  affectionate  son.”  He  had  a  wise 
father,  a  very  wise  father,  and  this  was  the  letter 
his  wise  father  sent  him,  "My  dear  boy,  I  would 
rather  you  should  be  a  Christian  minister  than 
to  be  Lord  Chancellor  of  England.  Your  af¬ 
fectionate  father.” 

God  needs  wise  messengers. 

If  he  had  more  wise  fathers  and  wise  mothers 
we  would  have  more  wise  ministers. 

Yes,  God  needs  wise  messengers. 

That  is  perhaps  why  God  used  the  ravens. 


\ 

XXXV 

OLD  FOLKS  AND  TREES 

“How  old  art  thou?” — Gen.  47:8 

THAT  was  the  first  question  Pharaoh,  king 
of  Egypt,  asked  Jacob.  Joseph,  you  re¬ 
member,  brought  his  father  down  to 
Egypt  during  the  famine  and  presented  him  to 
the  king.  The  first  thing  the  king  said  was,  “How 
old  art  thou?”  We  would  never  think  of  saying 
an  impolite  thing  like  that.  We  keep  away  from 
all  questions  about  age.  The  first  thing  we  would 
say  would  be  something  like  this,  “My,  how  young 
you  look!  I  thought  to  see  an  old  man,  but  you 
are  as  young  looking  as  your  son  Joseph.” 

But  we  have  queer  ideas  about  age.  The  people 
of  Jacob’s  time  considered  age  honourable  and  the 
older  a  man  was  the  more  he  was  proud  of  it. 
That  was  the  way  Jacob  felt  and  he  was  proud 
of  his  age,  and  was  ashamed  he  was  not  older, 
so  he  said  to  the  king,  “The  days  of  the  years 
of  my  pilgrimage  are  a  hundred  and  thirty  years : 
few  and  evil  have  been  the  days  of  the  years  of 
my  life,  and  they  have  not  attained  unto  the  days 
of  the  years  of  the  life  of  my  fathers  in  the  days 
of  their  pilgrimage,” 

Jacob’s  father  had  lived  till  he  was  one  hundred 

12Q 


124 


OLD  FOLKS  AND  TREES 


and  seventy  five,  and  Jacob  had  lived  only  a  hun¬ 
dred  and  thirty.  That  seems  a  long  life.  We  have 
no  men  living  as  long  as  that  now.  Rarely  do  we 
see  a  person  reach  ninety,  much  less  a  hundred 
years.  There  are  plenty  of  things  that  live  longer 
and  perhaps  that  is  why  trees  have  been  connected 
with  worship  and  religion.  That  is  why  trees 
are  our  friends.  They  are  here  when  we  come 
and  they  remain  after  we  go.  Jesus,  you  remem¬ 
ber,  loved  the  trees.  Among  the  olive  trees  of 
the  Garden  of  Gethsemane  he  kept  tryst  with  God 
and  the  angels.  When  every  one  deserted  him 
and  left  him  the  trees  seemed  to  understand  him, 
and  one  of  our  American  poets  has  written  these 
beautiful  words  about  Jesus  and  the  trees : 

“Into  the  woods  my  Master  went, 

Clean  forspent,  forspent. 

Into  the  woods  my  Master  came, 

Forspent  with  love  and  shame. 

But  the  olives  they  were  not  blind  to  Him, 

The  little  grey  leaves  were  kind  to  Him : 

The  thorn-tree  had  a  mind  to  Him 
When  into  the  woods  He  came.” 

Do  you  know  how  to  tell  the  age  of  a  tree?  If 
you  cut  through  a  tree  trunk  and  look  at  the  end 
you  will  see  that  it  is  covered  with  a  lot  of  tiny 
circles  which  you  can  count.  Each  ring  means  a 
year.  You  can  count  the  rings  because  there  is  a 
difference  in  the  growth  of  the  tree  in  summer  and 
in  winter.  Each  ring  means  a  year’s  growth  and 
so  the  rings,  as  the  years  go  by,  spread  like  rip¬ 
ples  on  the  water.  The  big  trees  called  the  se¬ 
quoias  have  as  many  as  2425  rings  which  means 


OLD  FOLKS  AND  TREES 


125 


that  these  tree  giants  began  to  grow  over  five 
hundred  years  before  Christ  was  born.  In  the 
same  way^we  can  tell  the  age  of  fish  by  their 
scales,  and  of  rattlesnakes  by  their  rattles  and 
of  cattle  by  their  horns. 

But  you  cannot  tell  the  age  of  a  man  or  a  woman 
that  way.  Indeed,  you  can’t  tell  it  at  all.  When 
she  is  thirty  she  may  look  like  twenty  and  when 
she  is  sixteen  she  may  look  like  forty.  You  tell 
age  by  its  wisdom,  its  sweetness,  its  quietness,  its 
graciousness,  and  its  charm.  There  are  two  things 
that  should  be  said  about  old  age. 

First,  old  age  should  be  reverenced.  Did  you 
ever  watch  how  people  who  love  old  trees  care 
for  them?  They  have  the  tree  doctor  come  and 
watch  them  and  sometimes  give  them  medicine 
and  sometimes  operate  on  them  to  keep  them  in 
good  health.  And  how  much  better  is  a  man  than 
a  tree?  When  Jacob  was  introduced  to  Pharaoh, 
the  king,  he  was  treated  with  honour  and  respect. 
Let  us  reverence  all  old  people,  and  by  reverencing 
them  I  mean  serve  them  and  love  them.  How  old 
are  you?  Six?  Soon  you  will  be  sixteen  and  in 
a  little  while  you  will  be  sixty. 

Second,  let  us  prepare  for  old  age.  That  is 
a  strange  thing  to  say  to  boys  and  girls  but  it  is 
the  right  thing  to  say.  The  Bible  tells  us  to  re¬ 
member  our  Creator  in  the  days  of  our  youth  be¬ 
fore  old  age  creeps  on.  All  old  folks  were  once 
little  children  and  a  happy  childhood  should  mean 
a  happy  old  age.  The  way  to  have  a  good  old 
age  is  to  have  a  good  youth,  for  age  and  years 


126 


OLD  FOLKS  AND  TREES 


have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  joy  and  good¬ 
ness  and  a  happy  heart. 

There  is  a  story  of  an  old  monk  who  went  out 
into  the  forest  and  there  he  listened  to  the  singing 
of  the  birds.  When  he  came  back  no  one  knew 
him  and  none  remembered  him.  Then  they  looked 
for  his  name  in  the  records  and  discovered  that  he 
had  been  gone  for  a  hundred  years.  The  beauty 
of  the  birds’  song  had  made  the  years  seem  like 
a  moment.  Years  have  nothing  to  do  with  good¬ 
ness.  A  thousand  years  in  God’s  sight  is  like  a 
day.  Be  good  and  always  be  young. 


XXXVI 

A  CHILD  GOES  TO  CHURCH 

“Christ  loved  the  church — Eph.  5  :  25 

THE  church  should  be  the  most  beautiful 
place  in  all  the  world.  I  would  like  to 
see  everything  about  the  church  beauti¬ 
ful.  That  was  the  way  David  the  king  felt  about 
it.  It  was  in  his  mind  and  heart  to  build  a  beau¬ 
tiful  temple  of  God  in  Jerusalem.  He  knew  it 
was  not  right  even  for  the  king  to  dwell  in  a 
beautiful  house  and  permit  the  worship  of  God  to 
be  conducted  in  a  tent.  So  he  charged  Solomon, 
his  son,  to  build  the  Temple  and  to  make  it  beauti¬ 
ful.  This  is  what  he  said :  “The  house  that  is  to 
be  builded  for  Jehovah  must  be  exceeding  mag¬ 
nificent,  of  fame  and  of  glory  throughout  all  coun¬ 
tries.” 

So  David  prepared  for  the  house  of  the  Lord 
a  hundred  thousand  talents  of  gold  and  a  thousand 
thousand  talents  of  silver,  and  of  brass  and  iron 
without  weight,  and  timber  and  stone,  and  the 
Temple  became  the  most  beautiful  thing  in  the 
land. 

That  is  right. 

The  church  should  be  the  most  beautiful  thing 
in  the  world  because  people  see  with  their  eyes 
as  well  as  hear  with  their  ears.  The  other  day 


128  A  CHILD  GOES  TO  CHURCH 


in  a  newspaper  I  came  upon  a  story  of  how  a  little 
girl  went  to  church.  This  is  what  she  heard  and 
saw  there. 

First,  all  the  people  sing  and  then — they  say 
“Our  Father,”  just  as  I  do  every  day; 

It  makes  me  feel  so  proud,  because  I,  too, 

Know  how  to  pray  the  words  that.  Grown-Ups  do. 
Right  after  that,  four  men  march  down  the  aisles — 
(My  Uncle  Joe  is  one:  he  always  smiles 
On  week-days — but  on  Sundays,  what  a  change ! 
Church  seems  to  make  him  look  so  stern  and  strange!) 
They  all  pass  silver  plates,  and  each  one  there 
Must  put  in  money,  like  you  pay  a  fare. 

I  carry  my  own  purse,  and  when  it’s  time 
For  me  to  pay,  put  in  a  brand-new  dime. 

I  like  this  part  of  church,  but  later,  when 
The  man  in  robes  begins  to  talk,  why  then 
My  thoughts,  like  birds,  go  flying  anywhere — 

(But  God,  who  lives  here  in  this  house,  won’t  care 
So  long  as  I  sit  still).  The  sun  shines  through 
Three  stained  glass  windows  just  above  our  pew; 

One  of  them  shows  a  Shepherd  with  a  lamb 
Cuddled  close  to  his  shoulder.  Oh,  I  am 
So  fond  of  himl  Within  that  kind,  strong  arm 
No  little  lamb  could  ever  come  to  harm. 

A  lovely  Lady  in  a  queer  blue  gown 

From  out  the  second  window  frame  smiles  down, 

Holding  her  Baby — ’twould  be  great  if  He 

Should  climb  down  from  her  lap  and  play  with  me! 

The  middle  picture  is  the  best  of  all: 

A  bearded  Man,  tall  as  my  father’s  tall — 

Stands  underneath  a  great,  big,  spreading  tree, 

And  little  children  gather  ’round  His  knee — 

They  seem  to  talk  together  like  dear  friends — 

His  face  is  beautiful. 

When  service  ends, 

The  organ  plays  a  lively  tune,  as  though 
It  meant  to  tell  us  “hurry  up  and  go.” 

So  everybody  crowds  to  reach  the  door. 

But  I  turn  back  to  look  at  them  once  more — 

The  Shepherd  and  the  Lady  and  the  Man — 

And  say  good-bye  as  often  as  I  can ! 

Their  eyes  all  follow  me — they  cannot  speak — 

But  church  will  be  locked  up  a  whole  long  week, 

And  they’ll  be  lonely  till  next  Sunday,  when 
They  know  I’ll  come  to  see  them  all  again! 


A  CHILD  GOES  TO  CHURCH  129 

So  you  see  what  she  saw  was  more  important  than 
what  she  heard.  She  did  not  understand  the  ser¬ 
mon  but  she  did  understand  the  church.  What 
did  she  see? 

She  saw  three  pictures.  She  saw  a  Shepherd 
who  cared  for  the  little  lambs,  and  she  knew  that 
Jesus  was  the  Good  Shepherd  and  that  she  was 
one  of  the  lambs  of  His  fold.  Then  she  saw  a 
lovely  mother  and  her  little  babe.  The  mother  was 
Mary,  and  the  little  child  was  Jesus,  and  she  knew 
that  all  the  wonderful  Christmas  story  was  in 
the  picture.  And  last  and  best  of  all  she  saw  a 
wonderful  Man,  with  little  children  like  herself 
climbing  on  His  knee  and  playing  at  His  feet, 
and  she  knew  that  the  wonderful  Man  was  Jesus 
who  said,  “Suffer  the  little  children  to  come  unto 
me,  and  forbid  them  not :  for  to  such  belongeth 
the  kingdom  of  God.” 

The  church  should  be  beautiful. 

It  does  not  need  to  have  wonderful  windows. 

It  is  beautiful  if  Jesus  is  there. 


XXXVII 

PHARAOH’S  PERFUME 

“Filled  with  the  odor  ” — John  12 :  3 

THERE  is  nothing  that  vanishes  so  quickly 
as  perfume.  Even  when  there  are  no 
young  ladies  around  it  disappears.  It  is 
like  the  passing  of  a  breath  of  air.  We  travel 
along  the  road  and  catch  a  suggestion  from  a  field 
of  clover,  or  from  a  garden  of  flowers,  and  it 
is  gone.  “The  grass  withereth;  the  flower  fad- 
eth.”  That  is  why  we  keep  perfume  tightly 
sealed  in  glass  bottles  with  close  fitting  glass  stop¬ 
pers,  so  that  the  fragrance  will  be  kept,  as  we 
say,  from  evaporating. 

Yet  sometimes  there  is  nothing  that  lasts  as 
long  as  perfume.  When  the  tomb  of  Tutankh¬ 
amen  was  discovered  in  Egypt,  among  the 
strange  and  interesting  things  found  was  a  little 
pot  which  contained  a  hard  gum-like  something. 
When  it  was  placed  in  the  hot  Egyptian  sun  it 
began  to  melt  and  it  gave  off  a  very  faint  but 
fragrant  odour.  Five  hundred  or  more  years  be¬ 
fore  the  first  Christmas  day  that  little  box  of 
perfume  had  been  placed  in  the  sealed  and  strongly 
guarded  tomb,  and  doubtless  those  who  found  it 
after  its  long  rest  in  the  dark  sepulchre  enjoyed 

130 


PHARAOH’S  PERFUME 


131 

the  same  odour  that  pleased  and  delighted  Ankher- 
paten,  the  queen  of  Tutankhamen. 

I  like  to  think  about  this  old  perfume  with  its 
fragrant  sweetness,  for  it  suggests  the  thought 
that  after  all,  the  sweet  things  are  the  things  that 
last.  Did  they  not  find  in  one  of  the  Egyptian 
tombs,  years  ago,  a  little  jar  of  honey  that,  after 
the  lapse  of  thirty  centuries,  kept  its  sweetness? 
Paul  tells  us  that  all  the  great  things  of  the  world 
pass  away.  He  tells  us  that  knowledge  and 
philosophy  and  languages  all  change  and  disap¬ 
pear,  but  three  things  last  and  abide.  He  tells  us 
that  faith  lasts,  and  hope  lasts  and  love  lasts 
and  the  greatest  of  these  is  love. 

The  other  day  I  was  in  the  office  of  a  very  rich 
and  good  man.  People  call  him  a  millionaire, 
whatever  that  may  mean.  Well,  what  do  you 
think  he  talked  to  me  about?  Not  about  money. 
There  are  plenty  of  rich  men  who  never  talk 
about  money.  Those  who  want  to  be  rich  usually 
talk  about  money.  He  did  not  talk  to  me  about 
schools  and  colleges,  although  he  gives  away  much 
money  for  schools  and  colleges.  What  was  he 
thinking  about?  Well,  he  showed  me  a  picture 
of  his  mother,  and  he  talked  to  me  a  great  deal 
about  her.  He  is  what  you  would  call  an  old 
man,  and  has  children  and  grandchildren  of  his 
own.  His  mother  had  died  over  fifty  years  ago, 
but  her  love  was  just  as  sweet  and  as  fragrant 
as  it  ever  was  and  it  not  only  filled  his  speech  to 
overflowing,  but  filled  his  heart  and  memory  with 
its  gracious  and  sweetening  influence.  Perfumes 


i32 


PHARAOH’S  PERFUME 


that  are  made  by  capturing  the  sweetness  and  fra¬ 
grance  of  flowers  soon  vanish,  but  love  abides 
forever.  When  Mary  poured  out  her  box  of  per¬ 
fume  before  Jesus  the  fragrance  of  it  filled  all 
the  room,  but  that  soon  disappeared,  but  Mary’s 
love  for  Jesus  is  as  sweet  and  wonderful  to-day 
as  when  she  showed  her  Lord  how  much  she  loved 
Him,  and  Jesus  said:  “Verily,  I  say  unto  you, 
wheresoever  this  gospel  shall  be  preached  in  the 
whole  world,  that  also  which  this  woman  hath 
done  shall  be  spoken  of  for  a  memorial  of  her.” 

And  this  is  the  wonderful  thing  about  the 
sweetness  of  love.  To  keep  perfume  made  from 
flowers  you  must  have  it  closely  and  carefully 
sealed.  To  keep  the  fragrant  sweetness  of  love 
you  must  not  seal  it  but  scatter  it.  Think  of  that. 
Love  like  seed  must  be  scattered.  The  Bible  tells 
us  that  is  what  God  does  with  His  love.  It  is 
“shed  abroad  in  our  hearts”  and  fills  the  whole 
world  with  its  fragrance.  Yes,  love  keeps  its 
sweetness  longer  than  any  perfume. 


XXXVIII 

THE  BRAMBLE  KING 

“Come  thou  and  reign  over  us.” — Judges  9: 14 

ABIMELECH  was  a  bad  man.  He  had  a 
good  father  and  his  name  was  Gideon.  He 
’  it  was  who  with  three  hundred  men  and 
with  pitchers  and  lights  drove  the  Midianites  out 
of  the  land.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  good  man 
that  he  was,  he  had  a  bad  son.  Abimelech  was 
as  bad  a  boy  as  any  boy  could  well  be,  and  when 
he  became  a  man  he  was  a  bad  man.  And  this 
is  what  he  did.  After  the  death  of  his  father  he 
killed  all  the  royal  family,  all  his  brothers,  to  the 
number  of  seventy,  upon  one  stone,  and  made 
himself  king.  He  thought  he  had  killed  every 
heir  to  the  throne,  but  his  brother  Jotham  escaped. 
Abimelech  was  not  only  bad  and  cruel,  he  was 
both  empty  in  his  head  and  empty  in  his  heart, 
and  Jotham,  his  escaped  brother,  knew  it  and 
one  day  he  told  this  story  about  Abimelech.  The 
story  is  a  parable,  or  as  we  would  say  to-day,  a 
fable. 

“One  day,”  he  said,  “all  the  trees  of  the  forest 
came  together  to  choose  a  king  and  they  went 
first  of  all  to  the  olive  tree  and  said,  ‘Be  our  king 
and  reign  over  us.’  But  the  olive  tree  said,  ‘I  will 
not.  Why  should  I  leave  my  fatness  wherewith 

133 


134 


THE  BRAMBLE  KING 


by  me  they  honour  God  and  man,  and  go  to  wave 
to  and  fro  over  the  trees?’  Then  they  went  to 
the  fig  tree,  and  said,  'Be  our  king  and  reign  over 
us,’  but  the  fig  tree  said,  T  will  not.  Why  should 
I  leave  my  sweetness,  and  my  good  fruit,  and  go 
to  wave  to  and  fro  over  the  trees?’  Then  they 
went  to  the  vine  which  bore  such  beautiful  clus¬ 
ters  of  grapes  and  said,  ‘Be  our  king  and  reign 
over  us,’  but  the  vine  said,  ‘I  will  not.  Why 
should  I  leave  my  new  wine,  which  cheereth  God 
and  man,  and  go  to  wave  to  and  fro  over  the 
trees?’  So  not  being  able  to  get  a  king  from 
among  the  fine  and  fruitful  trees  of  the  woods 
they  went  to  the  mean  and  worthless  bramble 
and  said,  ‘Come,  be  our  king  and  reign  over  us,’ 
and  the  bramble  said,  ‘I  will.  Come  and  take 
refuge  in  my  shade;  and  if  not,  let  fire  come  out 
of  the  bramble,  and  devour  the  cedars  of  Leb¬ 
anon.’  ”  In  this  very  pretty  parable  Jotham  told 
the  people  that  instead  of  making  a  good  man 
their  king  they  had  only  chosen  a  “bramble  king,’’ 
weak  and  useless. 

Sometimes  we  too  choose  a  “bramble  king.” 
Bad  temper  is  a  bramble  king,  and  often  we  pass 
by  gentleness  and  kindness  and  patience  and  give 
bad  temper  the  first  place  and  let  it  rule  over  our 
hearts.  You  know  what  I  mean.  A  boy  who 
gets  angry  when  he  ought  to  keep  his  temper  and 
a  girl  who  gets  peevish  and  fretful  when  she 
ought  to  keep  sweet  puts  the  crown  upon  the  head 
of  a  bramble  king. 

Envy  is  a  bramble  king.  Perhaps  of  all  the 


THE  BRAMBLE  KING 


135 


bramble  kings  envy  is  the  meanest  and  the  worst. 
We  are  told  that  it  was  because  of  envy  the  priests 
delivered  Jesus  over  to  be  crucified.  Instead  of 
placing  the  crown  upon  his  head  they  placed  it 
on  the  head  of  envy.  It  was  because  of  envy 
that  Cain  slew  his  brother  Abel.  Envy  leads  to 
hatred  and  hatred  leads  to  murder.  In  one  of 
the  verses  in  the  Book  of  Proverbs — I  wonder  if 
you  can  find  it — we  have  these  words,  “Wrath  is 
cruel  and  anger  is  outrageous ;  but  who  is  able  to 
stand  before  envy?” 

Lying  is  a  bramble  king.  It  has  many  names, 
such  as  falsehood,  deceit,  hypocrisy.  It  is  one 
of  the  worst  tyrants  in  the  world.  If  a  boy  will 
only  tell  the  truth  he  will  come  out  all  right.  If 
a  girl  will  be  absolutely  honest,  honest  in  what 
she  says,  and  what  she  suggests,  and  what  she 
writes,  she  will  come  to  a  good  end.  But  if  there 
is  lying  and  deceit  in  any  life  there  will  in  the  end 
be  ruin.  That  is  as  sure  as  anything  can  be  sure. 
A  lying  beam  in  a  bridge,  or  a  lying  stone  in  a 
wall  means  that  sometime  something  will  fall. 
Here  is  another  wise  word  from  the  Book  of 
Proverbs : 

“There  are  six  'rings  which  Jehovah  hateth; 

Yea,  seven  which  are  an  abomination  unto  him: 

Haughty  eyes,  a  lying  tongue, 

And  hands  that  shed  innocent  blood; 

A  heart  that  deviseth  wicked  purposes, 

Feet  that  are  swift  in  running  to  mischief, 

A  false  witness  that  uttereth  lies, 

And  he  that  soweth  discord  among  brethren.” 


THE  BRAMBLE  KING 


136 

There  is  only  one  who  is  worthy  to  be  crowned 
king  of  our  lives.  His  name  is  Jesus.  His  reign 
is  like  the  fruitful  olive,  and  fig,  and  vine,  and 
not  like  the  useless  bramble.  When  Pilate  offered 
to  free  Jesus  the  people  cried  out,  “We  have  no 
king  but  Caesar.”  What  a  strange  thing  to  say! 
This  is  what  they  should  have  said,  and  this  is 
what  we  will  say,  “We  have  no  king  but  Jesus. 
His  name  is  Wonderful,  Counsellor,  Mighty  God, 
Everlasting  Father  and  Prince  of  Peace.”  He  is 
our  King  and  we  will  crown  Him  Lord  of  All. 


XXXIX 


A  BOOK  IN  A  TREE 

“Thy  word  have  I  hidden  in  my  heart/’ — Ps.  119:11 

WHO  ever  heard  of  a  book  in  a  tree?  I 
mean  inside  the  tree.  Of  course  a  book 
could  easily  be  in  the  branches  or  on 
one  of  the  limbs  of  the  tree,  but  I  am  thinking  of 
a  book  inside  the  tree,  and  so  covered  by  the  wood 
and  the  bark  that  you  could  never  guess  there  was 
a  book  there.  I  do  not  mean  a  tree  with  a  hole 
in  it  either,  but  a  good  live  solid  tree,  sound  at 
heart,  with  a  book  inside  the  growing  wood. 

Well,  I  know  of  just  that  thing.  It  happened 
out  in  California  where  there  are  so  many  wonder¬ 
ful  trees,  and  where  nothing  is  too  strange  to  have 
happened.  A  student  by  the  name  of  Blockman 
was  reading,  and  using  as  a  back  rest  what  is 
called  a  digger  pine  that  was  growing  on  his 
father’s  ranch  in  the  Cathay  Valley.  The  tree 
was  a  fine  old  favourite  and  had  been  a  landmark 
for  many  years.  Indian  skulls  and  Indian  objects 
of  handicraft  had  been  found  near  by,  and  people 
said  the  spot  had  been  used  long  ago  as  a  meeting 
place  for  Indian  tribes.  Plenty  of  people  had  sat 
under  the  pine  tree  and  passed  it  by  with  a  word 
of  admiration,  but  had  noticed  nothing  particular, 
but  the  young  student  became  curious  about  a 

i37 


A  BOOK  IN  A  TREE 


138 

sort  of  scar  in  the  tree,  and  taking  the  blade  of  his 
knife  took  off  a  piece  of  bark  and  ran  the  blade 
into  the  tree.  After  a  little  probing  there  came  out 
bits  of  paper,  and  then  with  the  aid  of  a  sharp  ax 
he  cut  into  the  tree  and  found  embedded  in  the 
tree  a  small  leather  covered  Bible  or  prayer  book 
which  had  been  used  as  a  book  of  devotion,  and 
contained  the  date  1849.  So  since  the  middle  of 
the  nineteenth  century  the  tree  had  had  the  little 
book  in  its  keeping.  It  had  doubtless  been  left 
in  a  notch  cut  in  the  tree,  as  on  a  little  shelf,  and 
the  tree  had  grown  around  it  and  hidden  it. 

It  is  a  curious  and  interesting  story,  but  a  tree 
is  no  place  for  a  Bible.  It  does  no  good  to  hide 
a  Bible  in  a  tree.  There  is  a  better  place  to  hide 
the  Bible  than  that.  In  one  of  the  Psalms,  in 
speaking  of  the  Word  of  God  the  writer  says, 
“Thy  Word  have  I  hid  in  my  heart.”  That’s  the 
place  to  hide  the  Bible.  We  are  told  that  Alex¬ 
ander  the  Great  kept  a  beautiful  copy  of  Homer’s 
poems  in  a  costly  casket  which  he  had  taken  from 
Persia  after  his  victory  over  King  Darius.  Darius 
had  used  it  for  his  jewel  box,  but  Alexander  loved 
Homer  better  than  any  jewellery.  It  is  fine  to 
keep  your  favourite  book  in  a  fine  box,  or  on  a  fine 
dresser,  but  there  is  a  better  place  for  the  Bible 
than  any  box  or  dresser.  It  is  in  your  heart. 
“How,”  you  ask,  “can  you  hide  the  Bible  in  your 
heart?”  Well,  how  do  you  hide  anything  in  your 
heart?  Everybody  hides  words  and  sounds  and 
sights  and  faces  and  things  in  their  hearts,  and 
you  can  hide  the  words  and  messages  and  pictures 


A  BOOK  IN  A  TREE 


139 


and  people  of  the  Bible  in  your  heart.  You  re¬ 
member  Mary  the  mother  of  Jesus  hid  all  His 
words  and  pondered  them  in  her  heart.  That  is 
the  way  to  use  the  Bible.  Not  to  admire  it  and 
place  it  in  a  fine  case  but  to  hide  it  away  in  your 
memory.  Learn  its  words.  Memorise  its  great 
texts.  Get  to  know  its  stories  so  that  if  you  were 
ever  to  be  in  a  place  where  you  could  not  have  a 
Bible,  or  if  all  the  Bibles  in  the  world  were  lost, 
you  would  still  have  yours  hidden  in  your  heart. 


XL 

THE  SONG  THE  SEA  SINGS 


" The  waves  of  the  sea ” — Isaiah  48:  18 


IN  olden  times,  before  the  victrola,  or  the  piano, 
or  the  saxophone,  or  the  violin,  or  any  of 
the  hundred  or  more  instruments  came  into 
use  people  had  to  find  their  music  out  in  the  wide, 
wide  world.  They  listened  to  the  deep,  deep  thun¬ 
der  which  was  played  by  the  storm,  to  the  hum 
of  the  myriad  hosts  of  insects,  to  the  stringed  in¬ 
struments  made  of  reeds  and  rushes,  to  the  rustle 
of  the  leaves,  to  the  song  of  the  morning  stars, 
and  to  the  music  of  the  sea. 

How  much  sweeter  is  the  song  of  the  sea  than 
the  grinding  music  of  the  victrola!  There  is  an 
old  story  which  says  that  Orpheus,  the  great  mu¬ 
sician  of  the  classic  world,  lost  his  lyre  in  the  sea, 
and  the  music  we  hear  is  just  the  playing  of  his 
harp,  and  there  is  another  beautiful  story,  not 
quite  so  old,  of  a  great  golden  organ  that  was 
the  prize  of  an  ancient  monastery.  It  was  famous 
throughout  the  land,  and  in  foreign  lands.  It 
came  to  pass  that  the  monastery  was  attacked  by 
robbers  who  wished  to  remove  its  wealth  and 
treasures  to  another  land.  The  monks,  however, 
were  shrewd  and  not  willing  to  let  the  organ  fall 
into  the  robbers’  hands.  They  carried  it  to  the 

sea  near  by  and  sank  it  in  the  deep  water.  There 

140 


THE  SONG  THE  SEA  SINGS 


141 

the  golden  organ  still  continues  to  play  and  to  send 
forth  its  magical  music,  which  is  heard  by  all  who 
listen  to  the  waves  of  the  sea. 

Of  course  that  is  only  a  fairy  tale,  but  it  has 
a  meaning,  for  to  the  people  of  the  Bible  the  sea 
always  meant  trouble  and  danger.  In  the  Old 
Testament  we  read  that  the  wicked  are  like  the 
troubled  sea  that  cannot  rest,  and  in  the  last  book 
of  the  New  Testament  we  are  told  about  heaven 
and  it  is  said  in  that  new  world  there  will  be  no 
more  sea,  which  means  that  trouble  and  sorrow 
will  be  at  an  end. 

The  old  organ  singing  under  the  sea,  and  the 
sea  itself  singing  because  of  the  trouble  it  has 
with  winds  and  storms,  and  rocks  and  reefs,  tells 
us  that  even  though  we  have  trouble  and  diffi¬ 
culties  we  too  may  sing.  Most  of  the  sweetest 
singing  the  world  has  heard  has  come  because  of 
sorrow.  It  was  in  exile  that  the  most  beautiful 
Psalms  of  the  Bible  were  sung.  When  they  were 
in  prison,  in  the  night,  at  midnight,  Paul  and 
Silas  sang  praises  unto  God,  and  the  prisoners 
heard  them,  and  the  prison  was  opened  and  they 
were  set  free.  It  is  good  to  sing  when  we  are 
happy.  It  is  better  to  sing  when  we  are  sad  and 
wish  to  be  happy,  for  everywhere  and  always  we 
have  a  right  to  sing,  for 

"God  is  our  refuge  and  strength, 

A  very  present  help  in  trouble. 

Therefore  will  we  not  fear,  though  the  earth  do  change, 
And  though  the  mountains  be  shaken  into  the  heart  of 
the  seas; 


142 


THE  SONG  THE  SEA  SINGS 


Though  the  waters  thereof  roar  and  be  troubled, 

Though  the  mountains  tremble  with  the  swelling  thereof.” 

“Be  still  and  know  that  I  am  God.” 

This  is  why  we  are  told  over  and  over  again  to 
sing  unto  the  Lord  and  here  is  the  song  I  would 
like  to  have  every  boy  and  girl  sing : 

“For  the  beauty  of  the  earth ; 

For  the  beauty  of  the  skies, 

For  the  love  which  from  our  birth 
Over  and  around  us  lies; 

Lord  of  all,  to  Thee  we  raise 
This  our  hymn  of  grateful  praise. 

“For  the  beauty  of  each  hour 
Of  the  day  and  of  the  night, 

Hill  and  vale,  and  tree  and  flower, 

Sun  and  moon,  and  stars  of  light; 

Lord  of  all,  to  Thee  we  raise 
This  our  hymn  of  grateful  praise. 

“For  the  joy  of  ear  and  eye, 

For  the  heart  and  mind’s  delight, 

For  the  mystic  harmony 

Linking  sense  to  sound  and  sight ; 

Lord  of  all,  to  Thee  we  raise 

This  our  hymn  of  grateful  praise. 

“For  the  joy  of  human  love, 

Brother,  sister,  parent,  child, 

Friends  on  earth,  and  friends  above, 

For  all  gentle  thoughts  and  mild ; 

Lord  of  all,  to  Thee  we  raise 

This  our  hymn  of  grateful  praise.” 


XLI 

A  TREE  THAT  TOLD  A  LIE 

“ Nothing  but  leaves'’ — Matt.  21 : 19 

THE  fig  tree  of  Palestine  has  figs  first  and 
after  the  fruit  the  leaves  come.  When 
Jesus  was  on  His  way  to  Jerusalem  He 
saw  on  the  hillside  a  fig  tree,  full  of  leaves,  and 
knowing  that  the  leaves  were  a  promise  of  fruit 
He  went  forward  to  the  tree,  but  found  no  fruit 
thereon.  The  tree  had  no  fruit.  It  had  only 
leaves.  It  told  a  lie.  The  presence  of  the  leaves 
was  a  promise  of  fruit,  and  was  an  invitation  to 
travellers  to  come  and  eat,  but  when  He  came 
the  tree  deceived  him  and  was  guilty  of  telling  a 
falsehood,  a  lie. 

Jesus  said  the  Jewish  people  were  just  like  that 
tree.  They  promised  to  serve  God  and  to  bring 
forth  the  fruit  of  a  faithful  life,  and  instead  they 
were  useless  and  good  for  nothing  and  their  na¬ 
tion  brought  forth  nothing  but  leaves.  They,  too, 
told  a  lie  just  like  the  fig  tree. 

There  are  a  lot  of  things  in  the  world  that  tell 
lies. 

Sometimes  money  tells  a  lie.  Here  is  a  notice 
from  the  Bank  of  Pittsburgh  signed  by  my  friend 
Alexander  Dunbar  which  warns  me  about  lying 
money.  First  he  warns  me  about  a  fifty  dollar  Fed- 

143 


144 


A  TREE  THAT  TOLD  A  LIE 


eral  Reserve  note,  and  gives  the  number  and  the 
signatures,  and  points  out  how  it  may  be  detected 
as  false.  This  is  what  the  warning  says,  “In  por¬ 
trait  of  Grant  white  in  the  whiskers  is  too  promi¬ 
nent,  and  a  white  spot  appears  over  left  eyebrow.” 
You  see  the  lie  is  found  out  by  very  little  things. 
That  is  the  way  with  most  lies.  Second  there  is 
a  warning  about  a  $1000  Federal  Reserve  note, 
but  since  there  is  little  chance  of  any  of  us  boys 
and  girls  getting  our  hands  on  a  $1000  bill  we 
can  pass  that  one  by. 

Sometimes  I  imagine  jewellery  tells  lies.  Peo¬ 
ple  to-day  are  making  pearls  and  opals  and  sap¬ 
phires  and  diamonds,  and  it  takes  a  real  expert  to 
tell  the  difference  between  true  and  false  gems, 
but  time  tells  the  tale.  The  real  jewel  gets 
brighter  and  brighter  as  it  gets  older.  The  jewel 
that  tells  a  lie  soon  loses  its  lustre  and  becomes 
like  common  glass. 

Let  me  tell  you  about  some  boys  and  girls  that 
are  like  the  %  tree.  They  have  nothing  but  leaves. 

There  is  the  girl  who  talks  a  great  deal,  but 
never  does  anything.  She  is  always  going  to 
read,  or  sew,  or  study,  or  help  around  the  house, 
but  it  all  ends  in  talk.  She  is  like  the  fig  tree 
which  had  no  fruit  but  leaves  only.  And  here  is 
a  boy  who  is  always  busy  at  play  and  never  works. 
He  likes  hearing  it  said  that  “All  work  and  no 
play  makes  Jack  a  dull  boy,”  but  he  forgets  that 
“All  play  and  no  work  makes  Jack  a  good  for 
nothing  boy.” 

Then  there  are  both  boys  and  girls,  all  around 


A  TREE  THAT  TOLD  A  LIE 


145 


us  who  live  their  lives,  and  receive  from  God  the 
good  things  of  life,  and  never  pray.  To  live  and 
never  pray  is  like  a  fruit  tree  that  has  leaves  but 
never  has  any  fruit.  A  wise  man  once  asked  a 
question  like  this :  “What  is  a  man  better  than  a 
sheep  or  a  goat  if  he  does  not  pray?”  Could  you 
answer  that  question?  A  prayerless  life  is  like 
a  fruit  tree  that  bears  nothing  but  leaves.  All  the 
great  men  of  the  Bible  and  of  history  have  been 
men  who  prayed. 

Abraham  prayed.  His  prayer  was  : 

“Will  not  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  do  right  ?” 

Moses  prayed.  His  prayer  was : 

“Show  me  thy  glory.” 

David  prayed.  His  prayer  was : 

“The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd.” 

Isaiah  prayed.  His  prayer  was : 

“Here  am  I.  Send  me.” 

Paul  prayed.  His  prayer  was  : 

“Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do? 

The  Disciples  prayed.  Their  prayer  was: 

“Lord,  save  us !  we  perish !” 

Jesus  prayed.  His  prayer  was: 


“Thy  will,  not  mine,  be  done.” 


146  A  TREE  THAT  TOLD  A  LIE 


George  Washington  prayed  at  Valley  Forge 
and  God  gave  him  America. 

Abraham  Lincoln  prayed  during  the  Civil  War, 
and  God  gave  him  courage  and  victory. 

President  McKinley  prayed  and  his  last  prayer 
was : 


“Nearer,  My  God,  to  Thee.” 

President  Harding  prayed  and  his  prayer  was : 
“Lead,  Kindly  Light.” 

A  prayer  may  be  a  word,  a  hymn,  a  look,  a 
verse,  a  sentence,  a  life.  Do  you  pray? 


XLII 


A  WHITE  STONE 

“A  white  stone!’ — Rev.  2:17 

SOME  time  ago,  when  attending  the  Com¬ 
mencement  exercises  at  Blair  Academy  I 
listened  to  a  very  interesting  talk  by  one  of 
the  boys.  It  was  called  an  oration.  An  oration  is 
something  like  a  sermon,  only  it  is  much  more 
serious.  He  was  speaking  about  why  boys  go 
to  school,  and  what  is  the  best  thing  they  get 
at  school. 

He  said  there  is  a  difference  of  opinion  as  to 
what  is  the  best  thing.  You  know  schools  and 
especially  colleges  give  “a  letter”  to  the  students 
who  excel.  These  letters  are  given  sometimes 
to  a  boy  for  fine  work  done  in  study  and  some¬ 
times  to  a  boy  for  fine  work  done  in  play.  That 
sounds  strange,  I  know.  But  in  school  and  col¬ 
lege  some  boys  work  harder  at  play  than  they 
do  at  work.  But  they  do  not  call  it  play.  They 
call  it  athletics,  such  as  football,  baseball,  basket¬ 
ball,  running,  jumping,  and  track.  Well,  this  boy 
who  was  speaking  said  that  schools  vote  as  to 
which  “letter”  they  would  prefer  to  possess  and 
some  vote  for  letters  given  for  “athletics,”  or  play, 
and  some  prefer  the  “letter”  given  for  scholar¬ 
ship,  or  study. 

147 


148 


A  WHITE  STONE 


Let  me  tell  you  how  Theodore  Roosevelt  felt 
about  it.  You  know  he  had  a  fine  family  of  boys. 
One  of  them,  the  youngest,  was  killed  in  the  Great 
War  in  France,  and  another  son  Kermit,  was  with 
him  on  his  great  trip  through  the  River  of  Doubt 
in  South  America,  where  they  both  nearly  lost 
their  lives.  When  Kermit  was  a  lad  at  school  his 
father  often  wrote  to  him.  Kermit  was  interested 
in  the  play  side  of  school  life  and  once,  when  he 
was  disappointed  in  not  gaining  a  prize  his  father 
wrote  him  this  letter: 

Dear  Kermit: 

I  was  very  glad  to  get  your  letter.  I  am  glad  you  are 
playing  football.  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  see  either  you 
or  Ted  devoting  most  of  your  attention  to  athletics,  and  I 
haven’t  got  any  special  ambition  to  see  you  shine  overmuch 
in  athletics  at  college,  at  least  (if  you  go  there),  because 
I  think  it  tends  to  take  up  too  much  time ;  but  I  do  like 
to  feel  that  you  are  manly  and  able  to  hold  your  own  in 
rough  hardy  sports.  I  would  rather  have  a  boy  of  mine 
stand  high  in  his  studies  than  high  in  athletics,  but  I 
would  a  great  deal  rather  have  him  show  true  manliness 
of  character  than  show  either  intellectual  or  physical  prow¬ 
ess,  and  I  believe  you  and  Ted  both  bid  fair  to  develop 
just  such  a  character. 

There !  you  will  think  this  a  dreadfully  preaching  letter ! 
I  suppose  I  have  a  natural  tendency  to  preach  just  at  pres¬ 
ent  because  l  am  overwhelmed  with  my  work.  I  enjoy  being 
President,  and  I  like  to  do  the  work,  and  have  my  hand 
on  the  lever.  But  it  is  very  worrying  and  puzzling,  and 
I  have  to  make  up  my  mind  to  accept  every  kind  of  attack 
and  misrepresentation.  It  is  a  great  comfort  to  me  to  read 
the  life  and  letters  of  Abraham  Lincoln.  I  am  more  and 
more  impressed  every  day,  not  only  with  the  man’s  wonder¬ 
ful  power  and  sagacity,  but  with  his  literally  endless 
patience,  and  at  the  same  time  his  unflinching  resolution. 

Your  loving 

Father. 

You  see  there  was  something  Mr.  Roosevelt 
thought  worth  more  than  winning  in  sport  or  win- 


A  WHITE  STONE 


149 


ning  in  study.  To  win  in  the  battle  of  life  is  bet¬ 
ter  than  even  winning  the  battle  with  books. 
Character  is  the  best  thing  to  get  at  school.  To 
be  a  fine  strong  Christian  boy  is  a  better  thing 
than  to  be  a  good  sport,  or  to  be  a  good  scholar, 
but  of  course  the  very  best  thing  would  be  to 
be  good  in  all  three.  Many  boys  have  been 
good  sports,  good  scholars,  and  good  Chris¬ 
tians. 

In  the  last  book  of  the  Bible  there  is  a  story 
told  of  the  prize  given  to  the  victor.  It  was  given 
not  to  the  one  who  won  in  school  or  on  the  track, 
or  with  the  ball,  but  to  the  winner  of  life’s  battle, 
to  the  one  who  was  a  victor  over  himself.  And 
the  story  ends  with  these  words,  “To  him  that 
overcometh,  to  him  will  I  give  of  the  hidden 
manna,  and  I  will  give  him  a  white  stone,  and 
upon  the  stone  a  new  name  written  which  no  one 
knoweth  but  he  that  receiveth  it.”  This  is  the 
“letter,”  the  “mystery  letter”  which  God  gives 
to  those  who  win  the  prize.  It  is  a  white  stone 
with  the  letters  of  “a  new  name”  engraved  on  it. 
In  olden  times  people  had  as  signets  and  seals 
jewels  with  their  initials  and  perhaps  this  verse 
refers  to  this  custom.  Anyway  the  “letter” 
which  God  gives  as  the  best  prize  of  life  is  given 
not  for  scholarship,  nor  for  sport,  but  for  good¬ 
ness.  The  best  thing  in  school  or  out  in  the  world 
is  to  live  a  good  life.  At  the  close  of  the  Com¬ 
mencement  exercises  Dr.  Sharpe,  the  headmaster, 
asked  the  class  that  was  graduating  these  five 
questions : 


150 


A  WHITE  STONE 


Are  you  afraid? 

Are  you  honest? 

Are  you  pure? 

Are  you  in  earnest? 
Are  you  ready? 


Can  you  answer  these  five  questions? 

After  you  have  tried  your  hand  and  your 
heart  answering  these  hard  questions  of  the  Head¬ 
master  try  your  hand  and  your  heart  memorising 
these  fine  verses  by  Charles  Kingsley,  which  he 
wrote  for  a  little  girl  friend  who  asked  him  to 
write  her  a  song.  They  tell  the  story  of  the 
“white  stone.” 

My  fairest  child,  I  have  no  song  to  give  you; 

No  lark  could  pipe  to  skies  so  dull  and  grey; 

Yet,  ere  we  part,  one  lesson  I  can  leave  you 
For  every  day. 

I’ll  tell  you  how  to  sing  a  clearer  carol 
Than  lark  who  hails  the  dawn  or  breezy  down, 

To  earn  yourself  a  purer  poet’s  laurel 
Than  Shakespeare’s  crown. 

Be  good,  sweet  maid,  and  let  who  will  be  clever; 

Do  noble  things,  not  dream  them,  all  day  long: 

And  so  make  life,  death,  and  that  vast  forever, 

One  grand,  sweet  song. 


XLIII 


THE  MOST  BEAUTIFUL  THING  IN  THE 

WORLD 

“They  shall  see  his  face.” — Rev.  22:4 

DO  you  think  we  would  be  able  to  agree 
about  the  most  beautiful  thing  in  the 
world?  The  world  is  full  of  beautiful 
things  and  men  who  look  through  the  microscope 
and  the  telescope  tell  us  we  do  not  see  a  thou¬ 
sandth  part  of  the  beauty  of  the  earth  and  sky 
with  our  naked  eye.  The  world  is  more  beautiful 
than  we  have  ever  dreamed.  The  stars  and  plan¬ 
ets  are  brought  near  by  the  great  telescopes  and 
little  flowers,  snow  crystals,  the  tiny  insects,  the 
scales  of  fish,  the  sand  on  the  sea  shore,  the  dust 
of  the  street  shine  like  jewels  when  looked  at 
through  the  microscope.  There  is  a  story  told 
of  a  man  who  loved  to  see  beauty  and  he  always 
carried  a  microscope  with  him.  He  was  travelling 
in  Scotland  and  was  visiting  friends  in  the  heather 
hills.  Did  you  ever  see  Scotch  heather  ?  It  grows 
wild  in  Scotland,  out  on  the  hills  and  on  the  moors, 
and  is  very  beautiful.  It  has  a  little  purple  flower, 
and  this  great  man  of  science  was  lying  down 
upon  the  heather  looking  at  a  small  heather  bell 
in  bloom.  He  looked  at  it  long  and  lovingly  and 
did  not  hear  the  sound  of  approaching  feet  and 

151 


152  MOST  BEAUTIFUL  THING  IN  WORLD 

knew  not  that  any  one  was  near  until  a  shadow 
passed  across  the  glass.  When  he  looked  up  an 
old  Scotch  shepherd  with  his  dog  was  looking  at 
him  curiously,  wondering  what  he  was  doing  in 
that  strange  place,  with  that  strange  brass  instru¬ 
ment.  The  man  rose  and  told  the  shepherd  to 
look.  The  old  man  lay  down  in  the  heather  and 
was  a  long  time  looking  through  the  microscope. 
When  he  rose  tears  were  in  his  eyes  and  he  said, 
“I  never  knew  it  was  so  beautiful,  and  to  think 
that  I  have  trodden  so  many  under  my  heavy 
foot.”  It  was  more  beautiful  than  he  had  known. 

Well,  that  is  the  way  with  all  things  that  grow. 
If  we  had  eyes  to  see  we  would  behold  glory  in 
every  flower,  in  every  weed,  in  every  blade  of 
grass,  in  every  drop  of  dew,  and  we  would  say : 

“My  God,  I  thank  Thee,  who  hast  made 
The  earth  so  bright, 

So  full  of  splendor  and  of  joy, 

Beauty  and  light ; 

So  many  glorious  things  are  here, 

Noble  and  right.” 


But  none  of  these  things  is  the  most  beautiful 
thing  in  the  world.  I  will  tell  you  what  is  the 
most  beautiful  thing.  It  is  the  face  of  some  one 
we  love.  It  may  be  the  face  of  a  little  child  or 
of  a  girl,  or  a  boy,  or  the  fair  face  of  your  mother, 
or  the  strong  face  of  your  father,  but  I  think  of 
all  the  beautiful  things  you  see  the  face  of  some 
one  you  love  is  the  best.  Artists  tell  us  that  the 
human  face  is  the  hardest  of  all  hard  things  to 
paint. 


MOST  BEAUTIFUL  THING  IN  WORLD  153 

And  among  all  beautiful  faces  the  most  beauti¬ 
ful  of  all  is  the  face  of  Jesus.  For  many  cen¬ 
turies  artists  have  tried  to  paint  their  idea  of  the 
face  of  Jesus,  and  not  one  has  been  satisfied. 
You  have  all  seen  such  paintings.  People  go 
from  all  parts  of  the  world  to  see  Leonardo  da 
Vinci’s  painting  of  Jesus  and  His  Disciples,  which 
is  to  be  seen  in  a  little  chapel  in  the  city  of  Milan. 
One  of  the  greatest  of  painters  once  painted  a 
picture  of  Jesus  in  the  midst  of  His  twelve  dis¬ 
ciples.  This  artist  easily  painted  the  faces  of 
John  and  Peter  and  Judas  and  Thomas,  and  the 
other  disciples,  but  when  he  began  to  paint  the 
face  of  Jesus  he  failed.  He  could  paint  His  hands, 
and  his  dress,  and  his  hair,  but  he  could  not  paint 
His  face  as  he  wished  to  do.  It  was  more  beau¬ 
tiful  in  his  mind  that  his  brush  could  make  it. 
He  tried  again  and  again,  but  failed.  The  rest 
of  the  picture  was  all  but  perfect,  but  the  face 
of  Jesus  was  always  appearing  in  his  mind  and 
then  vanishing.  At  last  he  finished  the  picture 
and  painted  Jesus  with  a  mantle  thrown  over  His 
head,  hiding  His  face.  He  thought  when  people 
looked  upon  the  picture  they  could  imagine  what 
the  face  of  Jesus  ought  to  be  better  than  he  could 
paint  it. 

The  face  of  Jesus  must  have  been  very  beauti¬ 
ful.  When  Peter  betrayed  his  Lord,  Jesus  looked 
at  Peter,  and  when  Peter  saw  that  one  look  he 
went  out  into  the  night  to  weep.  Little  children 
looked  up  into  His  face  and  then  climbed  upon 
His  knee  and  were  satisfied.  There  is  one  won- 


154  MOST  BEAUTIFUL  THING  IN  WORLD 

derful  picture  of  Jesus  in  the  Bible,  and  this  is 
it: 


“And  I  turned  to  see  the  voice  that  spake  with  me.  And 
having  turned  I  saw  seven  golden  candlesticks ;  and  in  the 
midst  of  the  candlesticks  one  like  unto  a  son  of  man, 
clothed  with  a  garment  down  to  the  foot,  and  girt  about 
at  the  breasts  with  a  golden  girdle.  And  his  head  and  his 
hair  were  white  as  white  wool,  white  as  snow ;  and  his 
eyes  were  as  a  flame  of  fire ;  and  his  feet  like  unto  burnished 
brass,  as  if  it  had  been  refined  in  a  furnace ;  and  his  voice 
as  the  voice  of  many  waters.” 


The  Bible  promises  that  some  day  we  shall  not 
only  see  Him  face  to  face,  but  we  shall  be  like 
Him.  There  is  only  one  way  to  be  like  Him  and 
that  is  to  love  Him.  When  asked  the  secret  of 
His  beautiful  life  Charles  Kingsley  said,  ‘‘I  had 
a  Friend.”  His  friend  was  Jesus.  To  be  a  friend 
of  Jesus  is  to  become  like  Him. 


XLIV 


LOST! 

“To  save  that  which  was  lost.” — Luke  19:  10 

THE  other  day  I  was  reading  a  newspaper. 

I  was  on  the  train  and  had  nothing  else 
to  do,  so  I  read  everything  in  it,  and  was 
surprised  to  read  the  number  of  things  people  had 
lost  the  day  before.  Here  are  some  of  the  things 
that  had  been  lost :  a  beaded  bag  containing  a 
lease,  a  bank  book,  another  bank  book,  a  stock 
certificate,  three  “briefs”  lost  by  three  absent- 
minded  lawyers,  a  pair  of  tortoise  rim  glasses,  a 
black  grip,  a  handbag  containing  a  bank  book — 
it  is  wonderful  how  many  bank  books  are  lost — 
glasses,  keys,  watch,  pen,  money,  a  pocket  book, 
a  brooch  with  forty  one  diamonds — think  of  a 
brooch  with  forty  one  diamonds — a  diamond  pin, 
a  ring,  an  emerald  ring,  an  old  heirloom,  a  vanity 
box — what  is  that  ? — two  rings,  a  pearl  necklace,  a 
circle  brooch,  a  diamond  bar  pin,  a  sable  neckpiece, 
sable  fur  scarf,  a  white  pleated  skirt — I  suppose 
it  was  a  new  one — a  German  police  dog,  an  Irish 
terrier,  a  Yorkshire  terrier,  a  purse.  It  is  all 
very  interesting  and  I  notice  that  the  things  are 
lost  mostly  by  women.  I  wonder  why?  Perhaps 
you  could  answer. 


i5S 


LOST! 


156 

And  then,  too,  these  are  all  little  things.  There 
is  nothing  lost  in  all  this  list  that  people  could 
not  get  along  without,  such  as  dogs  and  rings  and 
vanity  boxes.  They  are  all  little  things  but  some¬ 
times  big  things  are  lost,  such  as  ships  at  sea. 
Thomas  Arnold,  the  great  headmaster  of  Rugby, 
was  once  asked  to  join  a  party  that  was  going  in 
search  of  lost  treasure  ships.  This  great  man 
who  loved  boys  said  he  did  not  need  to  go  search¬ 
ing  in  the  sea  for  lost  treasure.  He  could  find 
plenty  of  lost  treasure  right  in  his  schoolroom. 
What  do  you  think  he  meant?  He  meant  that 
boys  could  become  lost  and  that  it  was  the  busi¬ 
ness  of  his  life  to  find  them.  Of  course,  boys 
can  be  lost.  The  Prodigal  Son  was  a  boy,  and 
Jesus  said  of  him  that  he  was  lost.  Boys  and 
girls  are  lost  when  they  are  not  in  the  place  they 
should  be. 

Let  me  tell  you  a  story.  In  the  state  of  New 
York  there  is  a  monument  erected  where  the  battle 
of  Burgoyne  was  fought.  In  the  monument  near 
the  top  there  are  niches  where  the  figures  of  the 
men  who  fought  in  the  War  of  Independence 
are  given  places  of  honour.  One  of  these  places  is 
empty.  A  traveller  looking  at  it  one  day  said, 
“Why  was  the  monument  left  unfinished  and  why 
is  that  niche  empty?”  An  old  resident  of  the  vil¬ 
lage  looked  at  him  in  surprise  and  said,  “The 
monument  is  not  unfinished  and  the  niche  is 
empty  because  it  is  empty.  That  was  the  place 
that  should  have  been  filled  by  Benedict  Arnold, 
who  instead  of  being  true  to  his  country  was 


LOST! 


157 


false  and  played  the  part  of  a  traitor.  His  coun¬ 
try  had  a  place  of  honour  for  him  but  he  never 
filled  it.  He  was  a  lost  man.” 

Jesus  said,  “I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for  you.” 
God  has  a  place  for  each  of  us  in  His  love  and 
in  His  heavenly  kingdom,  and  when  we  wander 
away  from  His  love  we  are  “lost.”  How  many 
are  lost!  To  seek  and  to  save  the  lost  Jesus 
came  into  the  world  and  suffered  and  died  on  the 
Cross.  There  is  a  place  prepared  for  each  one 
of  us.  Let  us  see  that  it  is  not  empty. 


XLV 


SAY  IT  WITH  FLOWERS 

“By  love  serve  one  another.” — Gal.  5:  13 

PEOPLE  who  sell  flowers  have  a  common 
motto.  Their  motto  is,  “Say  it  with  flow¬ 
ers.”  You  know  what  it  means.  If  you 
have  a  friend  who  is  ill,  or  who  is  getting  well, 
or  who  is  going  to  be  married,  or  “coming  out,” 
or  going  away,  or  has  a  birthday,  you  can  express 
to  her  your  best  wishes  by  sending  her  a  bouquet 
of  beautiful  flowers  which  speaks  the  language 
of  love  and  friendship. 

It  is  impossible  to  miss  the  meaning  of  the 
flowers.  They  are  so  bright  and  beautiful  and 
fragrant.  They  are  always  giving,  always  say¬ 
ing  lovely  things,  always  sending  forth  sweet¬ 
ness. 

We  would  never  think  of  sending  flowers  that 
are  withered  or  fading.  We  send  fresh  flowers 
that  are  open  in  their  loveliness.  Sometimes  flow¬ 
ers  fade,  sometimes  they  wither,  sometimes  they 
sleep,  but  a  true  flower  is  at  its  best  when  it  is 
filled  with  fragrance  and  beauty.  Have  you  ever 
seen  a  sleeping  flower?  There  are  some  flowers 
that  close  up  when  the  night  comes  on,  there  are 
flowers  that  close  as  the  air  cools  and  then  open 
as  the  air  gets  warm  again,  there  are  some  flow- 

158 


SAY  IT  WITH  FLOWERS 


159 


ers  that  have  a  sort  of  sleeping  sickness,  which 
causes  them  to  curl  up  and  hang  their  heads. 
They  are  put  to  sleep  as  it  were  by  their  own  fra¬ 
grance  and  I  was  reading  not  long  ago  about  a 
new  anaesthetic  which  is  being  manufactured 
from  such  sleeping  flowers.  Ask  your  father 
what  an  “anaesthetic”  is. 

But  we  do  not  send  flowers  that  sleep  and  hang 
their  heads  to  our  friends.  We  send  flowers  that 
send  forth  fragrance,  and  reveal  their  beauty 
and  tell  the  story  of  our  friendship  as  long  as 
they  last.  Flowers  are  just  like  love.  Love  is 
shown  best  when  it  gives  and  serves  and  helps. 
Love  is  service.  Love  speaks  not  merely  in  words 
but  in  acts.  There  is  a  little  story  about  three 
children,  a  brother  and  two  sisters,  who  each 
claimed  to  love  their  mother,  and  I  suppose  they 
did,  but  one  loved  her  best  of  all,  and  this  is  the 
story : 


“I  love  you,  mother,”  said  little  John; 

Then,  forgetting  his  work,  his  cap  went  on, 

And  he  was  off  to  the  garden  swing, 

And  left  her  wood  and  water  to  bring. 

“I  love  you,  mother,”  said  rosy  Nell ; 

“I  love  you  better  than  tongue  can  tell.” 

Then  she  teased  and  pouted  full  half  a  day, 

Till  her  mother  rejoiced  when  she  went  to  play. 

“I  love  you,  mother,”  said  little  Fan; 

“To-day  I’ll  help  you  all  I  can ; 

How  glad  I  am  that  school  doesn’t  keep !” 

So  she  rocked  the  baby  till  it  fell  asleep. 

Then  stepping  softly  she  fetched  the  broom; 
And  swept  the  floor  and  tidied  the  room, 

Busy  and  happy  all  day  was  she, 

Helpful  and  happy  as  child  can  be. 


160  SAY  IT  WITH  FLOWERS 

“I  love  you,  mother,”  again  they  said — 

Three  little  children  going  to  bed. 

How  do  you  think  that  mother  guessed 
Which  of  them  really  loved  her  best? 

Love  does  things  for  others.  It  serves  others. 
Jesus  said,  “If  ye  love  me,  ye  will  keep  my  com¬ 
mandments.  ”  Love  always  thinks  of  others.  It 
is  like  God.  “God  so  loved  the  world  that  He 
gave.”  Love  always  gives.  It  is  always  awake. 
It  never  sleeps.  It  never  fails.  The  finest  thing 
said  of  Jesus  was  this:  “Having  loved  his  own 
that  were  in  the  world,  he  loved  them  unto  the 
end.” 


XLVI 


THE  SHANDAKEN  TUNNEL 

“A  river  of  water  of  life” — Rev.  22 : 1 

A  TUNNEL  sometimes  goes  under  a  hill  and 
through  it  trains  and  traffic  pass.  Some¬ 
times  a  tunnel  is  under  a  river  and  some¬ 
times  through  it,  as,  through  the  tunnel  under 
the  Hudson  river  great  electric  trains  travel,  tak¬ 
ing  millions  of  people  every  year  right  into  the 
heart  of  New  York  City. 

But  I  know  another  kind  of  tunnel.  I  know  of 
a  tunnel  under  a  mountain,  and  through  it  passes 
not  trains,  or  traffic  of  any  kind,  but  a  great  flow¬ 
ing  stream  of  fresh  water.  This  tunnel  is  in  the 
Catskill  Mountains,  and  is  eighteen  miles  long. 
They  began  to  bore  through  the  mountain  in  1917. 
Two  groups  of  workmen  began  on  each  side  of  the 
mountain  and  they  each  bored  away  every  day, 
night  and  day,  for  more  than  five  years,  and  one 
morning  they  met  nearly  half  a  mile  under  the 
mountain  and  the  tunnel  through  the  great  hill 
was  completed. 

That  tunnel  is  called  the  Shandaken  Tunnel, 
and  through  it  there  flows  from  the  mountains 
250,000,000  gallons  of  fresh  crystal  clear  water, 
which  is  carried  right  into  the  homes  of  the 

millions  of  rich  and  poor  who  live  in  the  great 

161 


1 62  THE  SHANDAKEN  TUNNEL 


city  of  New  York.  I  think  that  is  one  of  the 
most  wonderful  things  I  know.  In  the  hot,  hot 
days  of  summer,  those  who  live  in  alleys  and 
slums  and  boulevards  have  cool  fresh  mountain 
water  to  drink.  There  could  be  no  greater  bless¬ 
ing  than  that.  When  the  work  was  begun  the 
committee  in  charge  quoted  the  words  of  the  121st 
Psalm,  “I  will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills 
from  whence  cometh  my  help.” 

But  I  know  of  a  still  more  wonderful  tunnel, 
only  I  do  not  know  where  it  is,  or  how  long  it  is, 
or  whether  it  goes  through  mountains.  I  have 
an  idea  it  runs  through  clouds  and  sunlight,  past 
sun  and  stars  and  empties  its  crystal  water  at  our 
very  doors.  I  read  about  where  it  begins.  It  be¬ 
gins  at  God’s  throne,  and  opens  into  this  world 
of  ours.  Here  is  the  story: 

“And  he  showed  me  a  river  of  water  of  life,  bright  as 
crystal,  proceeding  out  of  the  throne  of  God  and  of  the 
Lamb,  in  the  midst  of  the  street  thereof.  And  on  this  side 
of  the  river  and  on  that  was  the  tree  of  life,  bearing 
twelve  manner  of  fruits,  yielding  its  fruit  every  month : 
and  the  leaves  of  the  tree  were  for  the  healing  of  the 
nations.” 

This  great  stream  of  water  which  flows  from  out 
the  throne  of  God  is  carried  down  to  where  we 
are,  and  every  one  who  wishes  may  stoop  down 
and  drink.  I  think  you  know  what  that  story 
means.  The  water  of  life  is  the  love  of  God 
that  comes  to  us  through  Jesus.  It  begins  with 
God  and  comes  down  to  earth  and  flows  from 
Calvary  and  from  the  open  Easter  Tomb  and 
every  one  who  drinks  of  that  water  is  satisfied. 


THE  SHANDAKEN  TUNNEL  163 

It  flows  past  every  door,  and  rich  and  poor,  white 
and  black,  people  of  all  lands,  may  drink  and  be 
content.  Jesus  often  compared  the  Gospel  to  fresh 
water.  He  told  the  woman  at  Jacob’s  well  that 
every  one  who  drank  of  the  water  of  that  well 
would  thirst  again  but  whosoever  drank  of  the 
water  He  would  give  would  never  thirst. 


I  heard  the  voice  of  Jesus  say, — 
“Behold  I  freely  give 
The  living  water;  thirsty  one 
Stoop  down  and  drink  and  live  I” 

I  came  to  Jesus  and  I  drank 
Of  that  life-giving  stream; 

My  thirst  was  quenched,  my  soul  revived, 
And  now  I  live  in  Him. 


There  was  plenty  of  water  in  the  Catskill  Moun¬ 
tains,  but  a  tunnel  had  to  be  made  before  the  little 
children  in  New  York  could  use  it.  There  was 
a  boundless  source  of  life  and  love  in  God,  but 
a  way  had  to  be  opened  for  it  to  flow  to  us,  and 
this  way  was  opened  in  Jesus.  There  is  an  un¬ 
failing  source  of  supply  of  love  and  grace  in  the 
Gospel  for  all  men,  but  it  must  be  taken  to  the 
homes  of  those  who  have  it  not.  Every  mission¬ 
ary  and  Christian  worker  is  like  a  tunnel  through 
which  flows  the  healing  waters  of  the  Gospel.  Is 
your  life  like  a  tunnel?  It  is  said  that  Oliver 
Cromwell,  who  was  once  the  ruler  of  England, 
visited  the  Cathedral  of  York,  and  there  he  saw 
twelve  statues  of  the  Apostles  in  solid  silver. 
“What  are  they  doing  there?”  he  asked.  Then 
he  said,  “Take  them  down  and  let  them  go  about 


1 64  THE  SHANDAKEN  TUNNEL 


like  their  Master  doing  good.”  So  they  were 
taken  down,  melted,  and  turned  into  money  to 
be  of  use  in  the  world.  Not  everything  that  is 
beautiful  should  be  turned  into  money  and  per¬ 
haps  Oliver  Cromwell  might  have  left  the  silver 
statues  in  the  Cathedral,  but  certainly  every  good 
Christian  is  not  for  ornament  but  for  use,  and 
should,  like  his  Master,  be  in  the  world  to  do  good. 
He  should  be  a  tunnel  through  which  goodness 
and  blessing  flow,  out  into  the  world. 


XLVII 

SOWING  AND  REAPING 

“One  soweth  and  another  reapeth.33 — John  4 :  37 

IF  we  would  reap  we  must  sow.  If  we  are  to 
reap  others  must  have  sowed  seed  for  us. 
If  others  are  to  reap  we  too  must  sow  seed 
for  them.  The  trees  under  whose  shade  we  sit 
were  likely  planted  by  hands  we  never  knew.  The 
wheat  that  we  eat  was  sowed  by  people  we  shall 
never  see.  The  Gospel  we  enjoy  was  preached  by 
missionaries  and  ministers  long  since  forgotten. 

For  this  is  the  wonderful  thing  about  all  life. 
It  grows  and  multiplies.  I  was  reading  the  other 
day  about  a  certain  flower  called  the  spotted  orchis. 
Each  plant  has  30  seed  boxes,  or  pods,  and  in  each 
pod  there  are  some  6,200  seeds.  If  we  were  to 
allow  400  bad  or  useless  seeds  to  each  pod,  then 
there  would  still  be  174,000,000  seeds  to  each 
plant.  This  seed  would  sow  an  entire  acre  of 
land,  and  next  year  the  seed  from  that  acre  would 
sow  a  whole  state  and  the  next  year  if  all  the  seed 
gathered  from  the  state  were  sowed  again  there 
would  be  enough  to  cover  the  whole  earth.  And 
this  is  the  queer  thing  about  seed.  It  will  grow 
and  multiply  if  it  is  bad  as  quickly  as  if  it  is  good. 

Sometimes  we  think  bad  seed  grows  quicker.  A 

165 


SOWING  AND  REAPING 


1 66 

little  girl  asked  to  tell  the  difference  between  a 
flower  and  a  weed  said,  “A  weed  is  what  wants 
to  grow  and  a  flower  is  what  does  not  want  to 
grow.”  Good  seed  and  bad  seed  will  both  bring 
forth  a  harvest,  and  the  thing  we  must  look  after 
is  to  see  that  we  sow  only  good  seed  and  then  we 
will  reap  a  good  harvest. 

Years  and  years  ago  over  in  Germany  there 
was  a  farmer  whose  home  was  far  in  the  woods. 
He  was  very  poor  and  lived  in  a  humble  cottage 
with  his  wife  and  two  little  children,  a  boy  and  a 
girl.  The  boy’s  name  was  Hans  and  of  course 
the  girl’s  name  was  Gretel.  One  dark  night  in 
winter  when  the  snow  was  lying  deep  in  the  woods 
and  the  wind  was  blowing  and  whistling  around 
the  cottage  there  was  a  tap,  tap,  tap,  on  one  of 
the  little  windows  and  a  voice  was  heard,  “Oh, 
let  me  come  in.  I  am  so  cold  and  so  hungry. 
What  shall  I  do?  I  have  nowhere  to  go,  and  I 
am  so  cold.”  Hans  and  Gretel  ran  quickly  to  the 
door,  saying,  “Come  in,  poor,  poor  little  child, 
come  in.”  So  they  brought  the  little  strange  child 
into  their  warm  home  and  gave  him  half  their 
supper  and  put  him  to  bed  in  their  own  little  bed. 
Then  Hans  and  Gretel  lay  down  upon  the  hard 
floor  satisfied  that  they  had  been  kind  to  a  poor 
lost  child.  Soon  they  were  all  fast  asleep,  for 
children  do  not  lie  awake.  In  the  dark  night 
Gretel  sat  up  and  shook  Hans  and  said,  “Listen, 
Hans.  Listen  to  the  sweet  music.”  Then  Hans, 
too,  sat  up,  and  listened.  It  was  the  sweetest 
music  they  had  ever  heard.  It  sounded  like 


SOWING  AND  REAPING  167 

sweet  voices  singing  to  the  tones  of  a  silver  harp, 
and  these  were  the  words  of  the  song : 


“O  Holy  Child,  we  greet  Thee  1 
With  notes  of  love  and  praise. 

“O  Holy  Child,  in  peace  sleep  on, 

While  o’er  Thee  we  will  watch  till  morn. 

“Blest  be  the  home  that  welcomes  Thee 
On  it  shall  Heaven’s  blessing  be.” 


Then  they  remembered  it  was  Christmas  morning. 
A  great  light  filled  the  room  and  going  to  the  win¬ 
dow  they  saw  the  morning  dawn  in  the  sky,  and 
in  front  of  the  cottage  home  a  group  of  children 
all  clothed  in  white,  and  playing  upon  harps  of 
gold.  They  were  so  surprised  that  they  could 
not  speak,  but  turned  to  waken  the  little  stranger, 
but  when  they  looked  the  little  lost  child  was  stand- 
ing  beside  the  bed,  no  longer  dressed  like  a  wan¬ 
derer,  but  clothed  in  purest  white.  “I  am  the 
Christ  Child,”  He  said.  “I  wander  through  the 
world  and  bring  happiness  to  all  good  children. 
Since  you  welcomed  me  last  night,  and  gave  me 
your  own  supper,  and  let  me  sleep  in  your  bed, 
I  will  give  you  to  eat  of  the  Bread  of  Life  and 
you  shall  never  know  cold  or  hunger  again.” 
Then  the  music  ceased,  the  children  disappeared, 
and  the  little  stranger  was  gone.  But  a  great 
peace  filled  their  hearts  and  their  home  seemed 
like  heaven. 

Hans  and  Gretel  had  sown  kindness  and  love, 
and  had  reaped  a  golden  harvest  of  peace  and  joy. 


XL  VIII 


LITTLE  BROTHERS  AND  SISTERS 

“Behold  the  birds.” — Matt.  6 :  26 

DID  you  ever  hear  of  St.  Francis?  He  is 
known  as  “St.  Francis  of  Assisi.”  As¬ 
sisi  was  the  place  where  he  lived,  and  he 
is  called  a  saint  because  he  was  a  very,  very  good 
man.  When  he  was  young  he  was  rich,  and  care¬ 
less  and  worldly,  but  he  was  led  to  give  his  life 
to  Christ,  and  after  that  he  lived  as  a  poor  man 
and  went  about  doing  good.  Some  one  has  said 
that  St.  Francis  was  the  only  true  Christian  that 
has  ever  lived.  He  was  very  kind  and  friendly 
to  every  one,  especially  to  the  poor  and  the  sick, 
and  made  friends  with  birds  and  animals,  and 
called  them  his  “little  brothers  and  sisters.”  He 
would  speak  of  my  little  brother  the  fox,  and  my 
little  sister  the  lark.  He  spent  much  time  in  the 
woods  and  the  fields,  and  learned  to  know  how 
friendly  is  all  wild  life  as  we  call  it. 

The  birds  are  very  friendly  little  creatures. 
Did  you  ever  think  how  friendly  and  familiar 
they  are  ?  We  call  them  by  friendly  names.  There 
is  the  Daw,  for  example,  and  we  call  him  Jack, — 
Jack  Daw,  just  as  if  he  were  a  well  known  friend. 

168 


LITTLE  BROTHERS  AND  SISTERS  169 

Then  there  is  the  Redbreast,  that  is  out  after  the 
early  worm,  and  we  call  him  Robin — Robin  Red¬ 
breast  we  call  him,  just  as  if  he  belonged  to  the 
family.  There  is  the  little  Wren,  too,  that  wants 
to  find  a  tiny  hole  in  which  to  make  a  nest,  and 
because  she  is  so  little  and  so  friendly  we  call  her 
Jenny — Jenny  Wren.  Then  there  is  the  Pie,  and 
we  call  her  Margaret — for  short  we  say  Mag, 
and  Mag-pie  is  one  of  our  rather  curious  friends 
who  hangs  around  like  a  poor  relation.  But  they 
are  all  friendly  folk,  and  they  are  friendly  with 
each  other.  The  Bible  tells  us  that  there  will 
come  a  time  when  even  the  lion  and  the  lamb 
will  lie  down  together,  and  love  will  be  king  over 
all.  We  read  of  owls  living  in  the  same  house  in 
the  ground  with  prairie  dogs  and  we  have  all 
seen  a  hen  playing  mother  to  ducks  and  turkeys 
and  geese.  I  was  reading  not  long  ago  of  a  man 
who  watched  a  flock  of  birds.  The  birds  flew  on 
in  a  great  flock,  but  three  birds  lingered  behind. 
One  of  the  three  would  lie  for  a  long  time  in  the 
grass,  while  the  other  two  birds  stood  beside  it. 
After  a  time  it  started  to  fly  and  the  two  birds 
flew,  one  on  each  side  of  it.  Again  it  rested,  and 
the  two  companion  birds  waited  till  it  was  ready 
to  fly,  and  then  again  flew  with  it.  The  man  who 
was  a  lover  of  birds  discovered  that  the  bird  that 
rested  so  often  had  a  broken  leg,  and  the  two 
kept  it  company,  and  helped  it,  until  they  were 
all  able  to  rejoin  the  flock.  The  man  who  watched 
the  birds  was  Mr.  W.  H.  Hudson  and  the  birds 
were  what  are  known  as  military  starlings. 


170  LITTLE  BROTHERS  AND  SISTERS 

Jesus  said  that  boys  and  girls  are  much  better 
than  sparrows  or  starlings  or  any  kind  of  birds. 
And  so  they  are,  and  they  can  show  how  much 
better  they  are  than  the  birds  by  being  kinder, 
friendlier,  and  more  helpful  than  the  birds.  They 
can  be  like  little  brothers  and  sisters  to  each  other. 
After  the  Great  War  was  over  two  Austrian  young 
men  found  themselves  prisoners  in  Siberia.  Si¬ 
beria  is  a  terribly  cold  country,  and  they  longed 
for  home.  During  their  life  in  prison  they  be¬ 
came  great  pals,  and  were  like  brothers  to  each 
other.  One  day  news  came  that  a  certain  number 
of  prisoners  were  to  be  given  their  freedom,  and 
were  to  sail  on  the  last  boat  that  would  leave  be¬ 
fore  the  winter  closed  the  port.  One  of  these  two 
chums  was  selected  to  go  and  of  course  the  other 
was  compelled  to  remain.  There  was  nothing 
to  be  done.  Each  man  leaving  was  allowed  to 
take  one  piece  of  baggage  with  him,  and  just  one 
piece,  no  more.  What  do  you  think  this  friendly 
pal  did?  He  left  behind  him  all  his  clothes,  and 
everything  that  belonged  to  him  and  rather  than 
be  separated  from  his  friend  he  doubled  him  up 
as  you  would  a  jack-knife,  sewed  him  up  in 
canvas,  and  staggered  aboard  the  ship  with  his 
friend  as  his  only  single  and  best  possession. 
Surely  this  man  thought  of  his  chum  as  his 
brother.  He  was  his  friend,  his  keeper. 

When  we  bear  the  burdens  of  others  we  be¬ 
come  their  brothers.  Once  during  the  life  of 
Jesus  His  mother  and  His  brothers  came  to  speak 
with  Him.  This  is  the  story : 


LITTLE  BROTHERS  AND  SISTERS  171 

“And  one  said  unto  him,  Behold,  thy  mother  and  thy 
brethren  stand  without,  seeking  to  speak  to  thee.  But  he 
answered  and  said  unto  him  that  told  him,  Who  is  my 
mother?  and  who  are  my  brethren?  And  he  stretched 
forth  his  hand  towards  his  disciples,  and  said,  Behold  my 
mother  and  my  brethren !  For  whosoever  shall  do  the  will 
of  my  Father  who  is  in  heaven,  he  is  my  brother,  and 
sister,  and  mother.” 


We,  too,  can  be  the  little  brothers  and  sisters  of 
Jesus  by  doing  His  will  and  serving  those  about 
us  who  are  in  need. 


XLIX 


WORK! 

“My  Father  worketh.” — John  5 : 17 

THE  world  is  a  busy  place.  Some  one  has 
said  that  life  is  just  one  thing  after  an¬ 
other  and  love  is  just  two  things  after 
each  other.  The  world  is  a  busy  place.  Every 
thing  works. 

The  birds  work.  They  are  busy  from  morn¬ 
ing  to  night.  First  they  are  busy  with  their  nest. 
Then  they  are  busy  with  their  eggs.  Then  they 
are  busy  feeding  their  baby  birds  and  then  they 
are  busy  getting  ready  to  move  south  for  the  win¬ 
ter.  In  a  single  nest  a  man  counted  2379  little 
feathers.  That  pair  of  birds  had  made  2379  trips 
carrying  little  fluffy  feathers  with  which  to  build 
a  nice  warm  snug  nest  for  their  little  children. 
Yes,  birds  work. 

And  bees  work.  In  a  colony  of  50,000  bees 
there  are  about  30,000  workers.  Each  one  of 
these  30,000  working  bees  makes  ten  trips  every 
day.  They  go  out  after  honey.  In  a  single  day 
these  working  bees  visit  300,000  flowers,  and 
when  you  remember  that  it  takes  37,000  visits 
to  make  one  pound  of  honey  you  can  understand 
how  hard  the  bees  must  w’ork. 

Insects  work.  All  sorts  of  flies  and  mosquitoes 

172 


WORK! 


173 


and  bugs  and  spiders  work.  You  remember  about 
the  spider  Robert  Bruce  saw  at  work.  Robert 
Bruce  was  king  of  Scotland,  but  he  was  in  hiding 
from  the  enemy.  He  had  failed  and  was  sleeping 
one  night  in  a  friend’s  barn.  Early  in  the  morn¬ 
ing  he  awoke  and  saw  a  spider  trying  to  lay  its 
silken  cables  and  weave  its  web,  but  again  and 
again  it  failed.  At  last  it  succeeded.  Then  Bruce 
rose  from  his  bed  in  the  straw  and  said,  ‘‘If  a 
spider  can  succeed  after  so  many  failures,  so  can 
I.”  And  he  did.  Yes,  spiders  work  and  all 
sorts  of  insects  work. 

Beavers  work.  I  have  seen  among  the  hills  of 
Pennsylvania  great  trees  which  the  beavers  have 
cut  down  with  their  teeth.  They  cut  them  so 
the  tree  would  fall  across  the  stream  and  then 
they  built  a  dam  and  made  themselves  a  home. 
Do  we  not  sometimes  say  that  we  have  worked 
like  a  beaver?  Yes,  beavers  work. 

Jesus  himself  was  a  great  worker.  When  He 
was  a  boy  He  worked  in  the  carpenter  shop  at 
Nazareth,  and  when  He  became  a  man  He  worked 
day  and  night.  When  His  mother  found  Him  in 
the  temple  He  said  to  her,  “Wist  ye  not  that  I 
must  be  about  my  father’s  business?”  Jesus  was 
a  worker.  He  worked  every  day  in  the  week, 
and  on  Sundays,  too.  He  worked  at  doing  good. 

If  you  and  I  are  to  succeed  we  must  work.  We 
must  work  at  our  studies.  We  must  work  at  our 
tasks.  We  must  work  at  our  religion.  When 
Archbishop  Temple  was  a  boy  he  was  much  given 
to  talking  and  arguing  and  one  day,  when  he  was 


174 


WORK! 


arguing  with  his  mother  about  something  she 
had  asked  him  to  do,  she  said,  “Don’t  argue,  Fred¬ 
die,  work.”  He  never  forgot  his  mother’s  words, 
and  he  did  work,  and  working  made  a  man  of  him. 

During  the  Revolution  a  corporal  in  the  army 
was  giving  orders  to  a  little  squad  of  men  who 
were  raising  a  heavy  timber  to  be  used  in  build¬ 
ing  a  bridge.  The  men  were  not  quite  able  to  lift 
it.  An  officer  not  in  military  dress  happened  to 
pass  and  asked  the  corporal  why  he  did  not  take 
hold  and  help.  “I  am  a  corporal,”  he  replied. 
Then  the  stranger  came  forward  himself,  gave  a 
few  orders  and  laid  hold  of  the  beam  with  the 
men  and  soon  it  was  in  place.  Then  mounting  his 
horse  he  said  with  a  smile,  “Mr.  Corporal,  when 
you  have  another  such  job  send  for  the  com¬ 
mander-in-chief.”  The  stranger  was  General 
George  Washington.  He  was  not  afraid  to  work. 

The  Bible  has  a  great  deal  to  say  about  work. 
We  are  told  to  rest  one  day  in  seven,  because  six 
days  we  are  to  work.  Jesus  could  not  find  time 
enough  to  do  all  he  wished  to  do.  He  said,  “We 
must  work  the  works  of  him  that  sent  me,  while 
it  is  day:  the  night  cometh,  when  no  man  can 
work.”  And  to  all  His  followers  Jesus  says  : 

“Go.” 

“Go  work.” 


“Go  work  in  My  vineyard.” 


L 


SAFETY  FIRST! 

“Bezmre!” — Matt.  10:17 

WE  live  in  a  very  unsafe  world.  All 
around  us  we  see  signs,  “Safety  first.” 
Everywhere  there  is  danger  and  even 
nature  puts  up  her  signals  and  bids  birds  and  in¬ 
sects,  cattle  and  sheep,  beware! 

Safety  first!  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  Venus 
fly  trap?  It  is  a  plant  which  grows  in  the  Caro- 
linas.  It  grows  in  among  the  bog  moss  and  has 
leaves  about  an  inch  long.  But  the  important 
thing  about  the  Venus  fly  trap  is  three  prominent 
bristles  which  stand  out.  They  are  the  trap  sig¬ 
nal,  for  the  very  instant  a  fly,  or  insect,  or  bug 
touches  one  of  these  bristles  there  is  a  quick  action 
on  the  part  of  the  plant,  and  the  fly  is  caught  just 
like  a  rat  in  a  trap.  It  is  a  wonderful  device.  If 
you  touch  it  with  a  piece  of  paper  the  trap  will 
clap  together.  You  can  do  it  a  second  time,  and 
the  trap  will  close,  but  if  you  do  it  the  third  time 
the  plant  fooled  twice  will  pay  no  attention  to  you. 
The  world  is  full  of  traps  in  which  little  creatures 
that  do  not  watch  are  caught.  The  spider’s  web 
is  another  trap,  and  there  are  holes  and  snares  and 
baits  always  prepared  for  the  unwary. 

i75 


SAFETY  FIRST! 


Safety  first!  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  electric 
eel?  You  know  there  are  nearly  fifty  different 
kind  of  fish  that  have  some  sort  of  electric  appa¬ 
ratus  about  them.  The  most  interesting  is  the 
electric  eel.  It  has  its  home  around  the  Amazon 
and  the  Orinoco  Rivers  in  South  America.  It  is 
about  eight  feet  long  and  is  nearly  all  tail.  On 
each  side  of  this  strange  fish  there  is  a  sort  of 
electric  batter}’  and  if  the  eel  can  touch  its  enemy 
with  its  head  and  tail  and  so  make  a  complete 
contact,  as  we  say,  it  can  produce  such  an  electric 
shock  that  it  can  kill  its  enemy,  whether  it  be 
fish  or  fowl,  or  creeping  thing.  Yes,  this  is  a 
dangerous  world. 

Safety  first!  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  little 
white  ants  that  belong  to  Africa  and  are  hardly 
ever  seen.  They  work  in  the  dark.  They  cover 
up  their  work.  They  attack  whole  forests  and 
no  one  ever  sees  them  at  work.  They  make  their 
approach  through  dark  tunnels  and  secrete  them¬ 
selves  and  before  they  are  ever  known  to  be  pres¬ 
ent  the  forest  is  destroyed.  The  missionary  may 
rise  from  a  perfectly  good  chair  at  night  and  sleep 
quietly  and  in  the  morning  the  chair  will  be  in 
the  same  place  and  will  look  the  same,  but  when 
he  sits  upon  it,  he  finds  himself  and  what  is  left 
of  the  chair  in  a  heap  on  the  floor.  The  white 
ants  have  come  in  the  night  and  eaten  all  the  in¬ 
side  out  of  the  legs,  and  seat  and  frame  of  the 
chair  and  left  only  a  sort  of  paper  shell.  The 
same  thing  may  happen  to  the  whole  house.  You 


SAFETY  FIRST! 


177 


may  never  see  an  ant  but  the  house  may  one  day 
fall  like  a  house  of  cards.  Yes,  this  is  an  unsafe 
world. 

Safety  first!  Take  heed!  Beware!  Be  on  your 
guard !  Stand  fast !  Be  strong !  Put  on  the  whole 
armour  of  God!  Everything  carries  about  with 
it  its  weapons  of  war.  The  dog  has  its  teeth,  the 
cat  its  claws,  the  horse  its  heels,  the  cow  its  horns, 
the  goat  its  head,  the  bee  its  sting,  the  bird  its 
beak,  the  fox  its  cunning. 

In  the  olden  days  when  the  world  was  more  un¬ 
safe  than  it  is  now  people  carried  bows  and  ar¬ 
rows  and  swords  and  guns  and  dressed  and  slept 
in  armour.  Our  danger  is  not  from  swords  and 
guns  and  daggers,  but  from  unseen  enemies.  Like 
the  white  ants,  our  enemies  work  without  being 
seen,  and  we  are  told  to  be  always  on  guard  and 
to  always  wear  the  whole  armour  of  God.  If  you 
will  read  the  last  chapter  of  Ephesians  you  will 
see  what  makes  up  a  complete  suit  of  God’s  ar¬ 
mour. 

First,  the  girdle  of  truth. 

There  is  no  safety  in  a  lie. 

Second,  the  breastplate  of  righteousness. 

The  right  life  is  the  only  safe  life. 

Third,  the  sandals  of  peace. 

Peace  has  more  victories  than  war. 

Fourth,  the  shield  of  faith. 

“I  will  trust  and  not  be  afraid.” 

Fifth,  the  helmet  of  salvation. 

The  Christian  life  is  the  fearless  life. 


178 


SAFETY  FIRST! 


Sixth,  the  sword  of  the  Spirit. 

The  true  sword  is  the  Word  of  God. 

Seventh,  the  habit  of  prayer. 

Prayer  will  always  kill  sin. 

This  is  the  whole  armour  of  God.  It  is  the 
secret  of  safety,  and  he  who  fights  in  the  armour 
never  fails.  Some  day  I  want  you  to  read  Bun- 
yan’s  “Pilgrim’s  Progress,”  where  the  story  is 
told  of  one  by  the  name  of  Christian  who  fought  a 
terrible  battle  in  this  same  armour  and  won  a  hand¬ 
some  victory. 

“Soldiers  of  Christ — arise  ! 

And  put  your  armour  on.” 


LI 


THE  WASPS’  NEST 

“The  sting  is  sin.” — i  Cor.  15 :  56 

ELFIN  CAMP  had  been  shut  up  during  the 
long,  long  Canadian  winter  and  when  we 
arrived  to  open  it  for  the  summer,  Ahmic 
Lake  was  dressed  in  loveliness  and  the  cabin  was 
already  entertaining  a  few  guests.  Of  course 
Oliver  was  there,  but  the  guests  were  not  of  his 
inviting  nor  of  ours.  They  were  little  creatures 
of  the  forest  who  had  come  out  of  their  deep 
dark  nests  in  the  silent  woods,  and  finding  no  one 
occupying  the  spacious  rooms  and  verandas  had 
made  themselves  at  home. 

At  first,  after  our  coming,  they  were  silent  and 
shy  and  only  little  by  little  did  they  introduce 
themselves.  First  a  little  chipmunk  made  himself 
at  home  on  a  chair,  and  then  a  red  squirrel  winked 
and  shook  his  tail  at  us  from  the  porch  railing, 
and  then  a  field-mouse,  fleet  as  a  deer  and  dressed 
in  white  and  tan,  passed  quietly  but  observantly 
across  the  table.  They  were  surprised  and  so 
were  we.  In  the  night  they  held  some  sort  of 
meeting  and  from  what  we  heard  they  did  not 
agree  very  well,  for  there  was  much  chattering 
and  prancing  about. 

At  breakfast  next  morning  other  and  less  wel- 

179 


180  THE  WASPS’  NEST 

come  guests  made  their  appearance.  Breakfast 
was  served  on  the  veranda  beside  the  silver  birches 
and  the  evergreen  pines  and  hemlocks,  and  when 
we  came  to  eat  of  the  good  things  Oliver  had 
provided,  lo,  other  guests,  uninvited  and  unwel¬ 
come,  came  also.  They  were  yellow- jackets, 
dressed  in  their  best,  with  their  jazz  music  and 
their  impudence,  and  they  came  to  the  feast  of 
sugar  and  plum- jelly  and  such  other  tasty  things 
as  took  their  fancy.  They  refused  to  leave.  They 
claimed  their  rights  and  began  to  fight.  One  was 
killed,  but  two  others  came  instead.  Another 
was  killed  and  three  were  left  and  so  the  battle 
went  on  until  breakfast  was  over,  but  the  wasps 
were  still  there  with  their  buzzing  and  their  sting¬ 
ing. 

What  could  be  done?  We  could  wait  and 
kill  them  one  by  one,  but  perhaps  there  were  hun¬ 
dreds,  and  their  big  lead-coloured  nest  was  up 
in  the  beams  right  beside  the  breakfast  table. 
But  there  was  another  way  to  deal  with  wasps. 
Our  Doctor-guest  waited  until  both  the  wasps 
and  the  children  were  quiet  and  then  he  took  a 
little  silver  and  glass  thing  he  called  a  hypodermic, 
which  he  filled  with  chloroform.  You  know  what 
chloroform  is.  It  puts  people  to  sleep.  When 
the  wasps  were  all  quiet  the  doctor  put  the  point 
of  the  hypodermic  in  the  hole  of  the  nest  and 
gave  those  nasty,  stinging  wasps  a  good  dose  of 
chloroform  and  closed  up  the  hole  with  a  little 
cotton.  There  was  a  whirl  of  excitement  for  a 
minute,  and  then  all  was  quiet  and  the  nest  was 


THE  WASPS’  NEST 


181 

taken  down  and  all  the  sleeping  wasps  were 
burned  in  the  kitchen  fire.  That  was  the  end 
of  the  wasps. 

I  have  been  thinking  a  good  deal  about  those 
wasps.  Wasps  sting.  Their  sting  is  poison. 
They  bring  fear  and  suffering  and  there  is  only 
one  thing  to  do  with  them  and  that  is  to  destroy 
them.  It  is  dangerous  to  treat  them  as  guests 
and  permit  them  to  play  with  little  children.  The 
best  thing  to  do  is  to  kill  them  quickly,  kill  them 
with  a  club,  or  a  broom,  or  a  brick,  or  lull  them 
to  sleep  with  the  sweet  breath  of  the  doctor’s 
chloroform. 

Sin  has  a  sting  just  like  a  wasp. 

There  was  a  wasps’  nest  in  the  Garden  of  Eden 
and  one  of  these  wasps  stung  Eve  and  then  stung 
Adam  and  at  last  drove  them  out  of  the  garden 
and  their  paradise  was  lost.  The  wasp  that  stung 
Adam  and  Eve  was  called  Disobedience.  It  still 
flies  around  and  stings  and  poisons  the  lives  of 
men  and  women  and  little  children. 

There  was  a  wasps’  nest  in  the  first  home.  In 
that  first  home  were  two  little  boys,  Cain  and 
Abel.  Thev  had  the  same  father  and  mother,  ate 
the  same  food,  heard  the  same  stories  and  looked 
at  the  same  stars,  but  one  day  a  wasp  called  Envy 
stung  Cain  and  drove  him  mad,  and  in  his  mad¬ 
ness  he  rose  up  and  killed  his  brother.  It  was  that 
same  poisonous  wasp  that  stung  the  priests  and 
the  Pharisees,  and  in  their  fury  they  led  Jesus 
to  the  Cross. 

There  was  a  wasps’  nest  in  the  first  Christian 


1 82 


THE  WASPS5  NEST 


Church.  When  the  early  Christians  had  gathered 
together  and  every  one  was  in  love  with  each 
other  and  with  their  Lord  a  man  named  Ananias 
and  his  wife  Sapphira  were  both  stung  by  a  wasp 
called  Lying.  And  pain  and  sorrow  and  death 
came  to  that  first  little  Christian  Church. 

Think  of  the  wasps’  nest  that  Paul  found  in 
the  city  of  Ephesus!  He  names  some  of  the 
wasps,  “Idolatry,  Sorcery,  Enmities,  Strife,  Jeal¬ 
ousies,  Wrath,  Factions,  Divisions,  Parties,  Envy- 
ings.”  What  can  you  do  with  such  a  dangerous 
nest  as  that  but  destroy  it?  And  the  way  to 
destroy  all  such  nests  is  not  with  chloroform  and 
a  hypodermic  but  with  the  sweet  and  living  breath 
of  the  Spirit  of  God.  In  the  presence  of  God’s 
love,  hatred  and  all  things  evil  shrivel  up  and  die. 

Do  you  remember  an  old  story  in  an  old  book, 
called  the  “Arabian  Nights,”  about  an  island  that 
was  a  magnet?  It  was  out  in  the  ocean  and  a 
great  ship  came  too  close  to  it  and  the  magnetic 
island  drew  it  closer  and  closer,  and  without  sound 
of  hammer  or  bomb  the  great  ship  fell  to  pieces, 
for  the  mighty  magnet  had  quietly  drawn  out 
every  rivet  and  every  bolt  and  strewn  the  wreck¬ 
age  upon  the  sea.  That  of  course  is  a  fairy  story, 
but  it  may  be  made  a  true  story.  Jesus  is  a  mag¬ 
net.  He  is  the  greatest  magnet  in  the  world.  He 
said,  “I  will  draw  all  men  unto  Me.”  If  we 
live  near  Jesus  He  will  not  only  draw  us  near 
to  Him,  but  He  will  draw  out  from  us  every 
feeling  of  hatred,  every  thought  of  envy,  every 


THE  WASPS5  NEST  183 

wasp’s  sting,  every  unkind  word,  and  all  evil 
things  will  die,  not  one  by  one,  but  altogether, 
like  the  hundred  or  more  wasps  in  the  nest  that 
were  so  quickly  and  so  quietly  chloroformed.  A 
friend  visiting  in  the  home  of  William  Blake,  the 
poet,  asked  for  some  good  advice  about  how  to 
succeed.  The  poet  was  silent  for  a  few  moments 
and  then  in  a  quiet  voice  said  to  his  wife:  “What 
do  we  do  when  we  need  help  ?”  She  replied,  “We 
kneel  down  and  pray.”  To  keep  near  to  God  is  to 
keep  near  to  peace  and  power  and  security. 


LI  I 

THE  SWEETEST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD 


“Abide  now  at  home” — II  Chronicles  2 5:  19 


THE  sweetest  thing  in  the  world! 

What  is  it?  I  suppose  you  will  say 
sugar.  When  we  wish  to  speak  of  any¬ 
thing  as  very  sweet  we  say  “sweet  as  sugar,”  or 
sweeter  than  honey.”  Yes,  and  we  also  say 
sweet  as  music,”  “sweet  as  summer,”  and  noth¬ 
ing  is  sweeter  than  summer  unless  it  be  spring. 


(( 


(i 


“Sweet  spring,  full  of  sweet  days  and  roses, 

A  box  where  sweets  compacted  lie.” 

There  are  lots  of  sweet  things  in  the  world 
when  you  begin  to  think.  We  speak  of  a  “sweet 
tooth,”  a  “sweetheart,”  “sweet  William,”  who¬ 
ever  he  may  be,  and  “sweet  girl  graduates,”  who¬ 
ever  they  may  be,  but  none  of  these  sweet  things 
is  the  sweetest  thing  in  the  world.  The  sweetest 
thing  in  the  world  is  Home.  What  do  you  think? 
Is  not  “Home,  Sweet  Home”  the  sweetest  thing 
you  know? 

I  wonder  if  boys  and  girls  to-day  know  “Home, 
Sweet  Home”  ?  For  over  a  hundred  years  fathers 
and  mothers  and  grandmothers  have  been  singing 

“Home,  Sweet  Home.”  It  was  written  by  an 

184 


SWEETEST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD  185 

American,  John  Howard  Payne,  in  the  month  of 
May,  1823,  and  during  May,  1923,  it  was  sung 
on  land  and  sea,  in  homes,  churches,  and  music 
halls  all  over  the  world.  For  Home  is  the  sweet¬ 
est  thing  in  the  world,  and  “Home,  Sweet  Home” 
is  the  sweetest  song.  I  half  believe  that  not  one 
of  you  can  say  or  sing  the  first  verse.  Suppose 
you  try. 


“  ’Mid  pleasures  and  palaces  though  we  may  roam, 

Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there’s  no  place  like  home ; 

A  charm  from  the  sky  seems  to  hallow  us  there, 

Which,  seek  through  the  world,  is  ne’er  met  with  else¬ 
where, 

Home,  Home,  sweet,  sweet  Home ! 

There’s  no  place  like  Home !  there’s  no  place  like  Home !” 

When  we  think  of  it  everything  in  the  world 
has  a  home.  The  world  itself  is  nothing  but  a 
big  wonderful  home.  It  has  the  sky  for  a  roof, 
the  sun  for  light,  the  clouds  for  shade,  the  moun¬ 
tains  for  walls,  the  grass  for  a  floor,  the  flowers 
for  carpets,  continents  for  rooms,  islands  for  gar¬ 
dens,  birds  for  music,  winds  for  automobiles,  for¬ 
ests  for  summer  homes,  the  rain  for  shower  baths, 
and  the  oceans  and  lakes  for  swimming  pools,  and 
in  this  wonderful  home  of  nature  everything  that 
lives  has  its  own  home.  The  fish  has  its  shady 
nook,  the  bird  its  nest,  the  beaver  its  dam,  the 
wild  goats  their  shelter,  the  bears  their  caves,  the 
lions  their  lair,  and  the  sheep  their  fold,  and  to 
each  one  home  is  the  sweetest  thing  in  the  world. 

Nansen,  the  Arctic  explorer,  carried  a  pigeon 
into  the  far  North  and  from  that  white  wilderness 


1 86  SWEETEST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD 


it  flew  over  ice  and  ocean,  and  at  last  came  to  its 
own  home  in  Norway  with  its  message  of  life  and 
love.  Our  hearts,  too,  fly  away  to  God,  who  is 
our  real  Home. 

What  is  it  that  makes  Home  so  sweet  ?  I  will 
tell  you.  It  is  love.  Nothing  else  will  do. 


“One  rubber  plant  can  never  make  a  home, 

Not  even  when  combined  with  brush  and  comb, 

And  spoon,  and  fork,  and  knife, 

And  graphophone,  and  wife. 

No!  Something  more  is  needed  for  a  home. 

“One  rubber  plant  can  never  make  a  home ; 

One  day  did  not  suffice  for  building  Rome. 

One  gas-log  and  a  cat 
Can’t  civilize  a  flat. 

No!  Something  more  is  needed  for  a  home." 

That  something  else  is  love,  and  what  is  love?  I 
will  tell  you.  Love  is  a  way  of  living.  There 
are  many  ways  of  living.  There  is  a  worldly  way, 
and  a  selfish  way,  and  a  thoughtless  way,  and  then 
there  is  love’s  way.  Love’s  way  is  to  live  for 
others,  and  it  is  because  we  live  for  others  in  our 
home  that  home  becomes  the  sweetest  place  in  the 
world. 

There  is  a  story  about  an  old  man  by  the  name 
of  Hartmann.  He  was  a  Quaker,  and  his  only 
son  went  off  to  war  away  back  in  the  days  of 
slavery.  After  a  great  battle  the  old  man  went 
to  headquarters  and  there  learned  that  his  boy 
had  not  returned.  The  father  thought  he  had 
been  killed,  but  went  out  into  the  battle  field.  He 
looked  into  the  faces  of  the  dead  and  wounded, 


SWEETEST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD  187 

and  as  night  came  on  he  lighted  a  lantern  and 
searched  for  his  missing  boy.  The  wind  blew  out 
the  light,  and  in  the  darkness  he  went  on  with  his 
search  and  as  he  searched  he  called  “John  Hart¬ 
mann  :  thy  father  calleth  thee.”  For  hours  he 
searched  and  no  answer  came.  “John  Hartmann, 
thy  father  calleth  thee,”  and  then  he  heard  a  voice, 
“Here,  father,”  and  in  a  little  while  the  old  man 
had  his  son  in  his  arms,  ministering  to  his  needs, 
and  history  tells  us  that  he  nursed  him  back  to 
life.  That  is  what  love  does. 

We  say  that  Heaven  is  just  like  Home,  and  I 
think  if  you  will  listen  you  will  hear  God,  our 
heavenly  Father,  calling,  and  you  will  hear  Him 
calling  your  names,  “John,  Charles,  Margaret, 
Jane,  thy  Father  is  calling  thee,”  and  as  He  listens 
I  am  sure  He  will  hear  the  answer,  “Here, 
Father.” 


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Tomorrow 


$1.50. 

Mr.  Young  examines  the  relation  of  the'  life  of  the  up- 
growing  generation  to  the  Church,  under  the  home,  school, 
college  and  community  aspects,  based  on  an  experience 
grown  out  of  a  twenty-five  year  pastorate,  and  investiga¬ 
tions  carried  on  during  that  period. 


FICTION,  JUVENILE,  ETC 


Vi  "  ■  *  "■  ■  -•*  - -  ■  -  -  ■  -  ■  - - 

A.  EUGENE  BARTLETT ,  D.D. 

Author  of  “ The  Joy-Maker/’ 

Harbor  Jim 

Illustrated.  $1.00. 

Here  are  fascinating  pictures  of  the  little  towns  of 
Newfoundland  and  the  quaint  lives  of  the  fishermen. 
Dr.  S.  Parks  Cadman  writes:  “It  is  a  fine  piece  of  work, 
so  quaint  and  unforgetable.  I  have  enjoyed  devouring  it.” 

WINIFRED  KIRKLAND 

Author  of  “Polly  Pat’s  Parish, ”  etc. 

The  Easter  People 

A  Pen-Picture  of  the  Moravian  Celebration  of 
the  Resurrection.  Illustrated.  Paper  Boards,  50c. 

“An  exquisitely  told  story  of  the  old  custom  of  a 
quaint  people  reproducing  their  life  and  religious  beliefs 
in  this  far-away  American  Country.  It  is  more,  it  is  a 
message.  The  story  becomes  a  message.  And,  a  needed 
message,  too.” — S.  D.  Gordon,  atuthor  of  " Quiet  Talks/* 

EDMUND  VANCE  COOKE  and  Others 

Fun,  Folk  and  Fairy  Tales  for  Boys 
and  Girls 

National  Association  of  Junior  Chautauquas. 

$1.25. 

A  volume  of  tried  and  tested  stories  chosen  by  the  Na¬ 
tional  Association  of  Junior  Chautauquas,  to  provide 
amusement,  diversion  and  instruction  for  children  ranging 
from  six  to  fourteen  years  of  age. 

HAZEL  NORTHROP 

Stories  from  ’Round  the  World 

$1.25. 

A  new  sheaf  of  stories  by  one  of  the  joint  authors  of 
those  two  delightfully  entertaining  books,  "Stories  from 
Far  Away”  and  “Stories  from  Foreign  Lands.”  All  the 
way  from  Japan,  China,  Africa,  the  Near  East,  Spain,  the; 
Philippine  Islands,  Mexico  and  South  America,  the  young¬ 
sters  troop  into  the  pages. 

ISABEL  H.  SCOTT 

Author  of  Billee ,  The  Story  of  a  Little 
Boy  and  a  Big  Bear.” 

The  Adventures  of  Jane  Adair 

Illustrated.  $1.50. 

An  altogether  delightful  and  diverting  story  of  a  quaint, 
happy-spirited  child  who  moves  in  and  out  of  a  series 
of  diverting  adventures.  “Jane”  is  an  authentic  bit  of 
character-drawing,  and  her  “adventures”  are  going  to 

trove  a  source  of  genuine  delight  to  those  who  read 
Bfem,  Illustrated  by  Marion  Peters. 


WORK  AMONG  YOUNG  POLKS 


CHARLOTTE  E.  GRAY 

Author  of  “Experimental  Object  Lessons” 

Illustrative  Object  Lessons  $1.25. 

Miss  Gray  is  always  interesting,  understandable,  and 
careful  to  remember  that  the  work  she  prepares  is  really 
for  the  juvenile  perception  and  intelligence.  Rings  with 
good,  sound,  common  sense,  and  is  given  a  moral  and 
spiritual  application  of  a  clear-cut  character. 

ELLA  N.  WOOD 

Author  of  “Chalk;  What  We  Can  Do  With  It f* 
“Object  Lessons  for  Junior  Work,”  etc. 

Chalk  Talks  with  Boys  and  Girls 

Fully  Illustrated.  $1.25. 

The  author  of  this  book  has  been  talking  to  Sunday 
school  classes  for  the'  last  thirty  years.  Hers  is  a  ripe, 
full  experience,  and  out  of  it,  she  has  produced  the 
present  volume  for  Sunday  School  Classes,  Vocational 
Bible  Schools,  etc. 

WILLIAM  McCORMICK 

Editor  of  the  “Times-Herald,”  Reading,  Pa. 

The  Problem  of  the  Working  Boy 

$1.25. 

“The  real  characteristics  of  live,  rough-and-tumble  work¬ 
ing  boys  are  discussed  in  such  a  way  as  to  aid  the.  con¬ 
scientious  worker  to  appeal  to  them  mentally,  physically 
and  spiritually.” — The  Continent. 

MABEL  A.  McKEE 

The  Heart  of  the  Rose 

Paper  net,  25c;  New  Gift  Edition,  Cloth,  50c. 

“We  hope  that  every  mother,  that  every  son  who  loves 
his  mother,  and  that  every  sister  who  would  influence  her 
brother  will  read  it,  and,  above  all,  we  hope  our  growing 
girls  will  read  it.” — Watchman-Examiner. 


DAILY  READINGS 


REF.  J.  E.  McCULLGCH 

Secretary,  the  Southern  Cooperative  League  for 
Education  end  Social  Service,  Washington,  D.  C. 

The  Home :  The  Savior  of  Civilization 

A  Volume  of  Daily  Readings  for  the  Family 
Circle.  $3-50  or  $4.00. 

From  a  thousand  sources,  Mr.  McCulloch  has  compiled 
a  volume  of  daily  readings  expressing  sentiments  of  a 
lofty  character.  They  are  adapted  to  family  groups  in  all 
stages  of  development  and  tend  to  promote  that  character 
of  home  life  which  leaves  its  indelible  impress  on  those 
whose  good  fortune  it  is  to  form  a  part. 


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